The Darkest Night
by emicuee
Summary: "All things truly wicked start from innocence." Ernest Hemingway
1. Aurora Rider

The paper said the hail was supposed to turn to snow, but it didn't seem like it. The little pellets drove onto the ground like bullets. Aurora adjusted the newspaper in her hands, sipped hot, black tea from a big cup, and listened to the hail pound against her window like giant nails spilling from a toolbox. It seemed like it would be an unpleasant sound, but it wasn't. The pattering made her want to do nothing more than put on her pajamas, curl up in her massive bed, light the fireplace, and watch a movie or read an old book. Since she had a meeting in two hours, that wasn't an option.

Instead of being dressed comfortably, she was dressed in a long, black pencil skirt that was tailored by her maid, Sarah, to fit her perfectly, with black heels and a blue dress shirt tucked in at her waist. Her blonde hair hung heavy and straight on her back and shoulders, and her makeup was dark, but not strikingly so.

With a dramatic roll of her eyes and a scoff, she dropped the paper onto the table. The main headline talked about Bruce's return. It wasn't about the good of it, rather the mystery. Where was he? Why was he gone so long? Was it a woman? And her favorite: Did he kill Joe Chill?

 _Of course not_ , she thought. He wasn't that type of man. Not that she knew him enough to deem that statement true. For the time being, she was going to doubt he was even back. With the town so screwed up, topics to write about ran scarce, so the media dug up whatever lies they could to get people reading. Things like the mayor's alleged affairs or dirt on a judge.

It had been months since Bruce Wayne had been seen or heard from, but Gotham somehow managed to carry on with its usual business. Corruption, extortion, trafficking... The usual. The absence of Batman, however, wasn't like that at all. He was only around for a few weeks, and even then, no one was sure he existed. Only the rumors of Gotham's least trustworthy fueled the fear of Batman. He vanished when she was seventeen. Aurora assumed they were in some sort of collusion, because when Bruce left for his trip at twenty, Batman vanished into thin air. Crime rates rose again, as the crooks and scum that were hiding hastily took back to the streets in hopes to take care of their "business" before Batman returned. Just the idea of Batman scared every criminal away, but as soon as he wasn't there to keep the fear fresh, everything was back to chaos.

Despite a freshly fallen blanket of gray snow-slush, the entire city seemed darker. Something was always on fire, and no matter where you looked, you would see a thug running rampant. The Gotham City Police Department arrested anyone doing something that passed as suspicious, even if it was digging through a purse or walking slumped over with a hood up. You never know in Gotham.

It was understandable that the police force was scared like the rest of the city, but their cowardice and lies were still unheard of. Arrest the little problems, let the big ones run free because the commissioner is either paid off or too scared to fight. That seemed to be the GCPD's motto. Because of that, no one really found a reason to be out from three o'clock in the afternoon until the sun rose the next day. Unless, of course, you were the one percent, in which case everything was white picket-fence safe.

Aurora Rider was part of that small fraction. She never accomplished anything great that gave her the wealth she had. She was just a girl who had a few advantages from growing up as a Rider and friend of Bruce Wayne. Her and Bruce's fathers went to university together, and remained friends and associates after graduating. The two families merged together right away, thus forcing the two children together, whether or not they wanted to be. Holidays, charity events...you name it. They were always together. After Bruce's parents were killed, though, everything changed. She could still remember the morning she had to leave his house. The morning she had to leave poor Bruce alone in that empty house with Alfred.

When the big door of Wayne Manor closed on her, and her father and mother urged her toward their car, it was like locking her in a solitary cell. It was storming outside, but the rain didn't faze her as it streamed down her face with her tears. Everything she knew was in that house with her best friend, and all she wanted was to go back and be with him and make him smile again. They didn't go to the same parties or have playdates. She didn't get to go to his house or help Alfred cook.

She was too little to understand what was happening around her. Bruce was little, too, but he understood perfectly. He changed the most. He always seemed so dark since that day. So isolated. He never healed, never moved on. If anything, he went deeper and deeper within himself every year. People grow up, she told herself, but they don't change completely. Aurora was the only one who could really tell. Maybe it was because he never left home. Maybe it was because his butler, Alfred, just couldn't take care of him like his parents could have. It was something no one knew, and something no one would ever know.

She and Bruce were never in contact—the only times they ever really spoke were at parties and other events, and that was just to show the press about the great bond between the Riders and Waynes as business partners and families even after such traumatic events took place, which was supposed to help the people of Gotham trust Wayne Enterprises more or something. But the "relationship" between the two only lasted when she was little, and she only saw him a couple times.

After Bruce turned fourteen, he disappeared to go to different schools and programs around the country. Six years later, he was twenty and she was seventeen. He was only back for a few months before the press claimed Bruce either left again for a ski trip in the Alps, or was running because he murdered Joe Chill. They were undecided about the event, even though there was no evidence against him, and dragged it out for weeks. They were just bored. It seemed like he never returned from school before his "vacation" except to show up at one Wayne Enterprises board meeting. And leave early.

The advantages granted to her by growing up with the Wayne family for that short period of her childhood were few, but each one was major. One was her affluence. Since her parents were in business with Bruce's, their income was always plentiful. They were honest, trustworthy people, and truly deserved the money they made.

Another was her job at Wayne Enterprises. Bruce left home before she even applied for a position in the company, so she assumed he didn't know she worked for him. Her position was below Bruce, below all the board members, and below everyone else but the newest members of the company. Because of her family's money, she easily afforded an Ivy League school on the east coast, so when it came to the business, she knew what she was talking about. She just didn't care for the attention. And Wayne Enterprises was a man's world. No one wanted her leading that company anywhere. But at some point, someone up top in the company found out who she was, and promoted her a hundred times over until she was almost CEO of the entire production. Aurora never found out who it was, but she liked to think it was Bruce.

Finally, she had the privilege of someone being there when she needed something. Aurora hardly reached out to him, but when she did, Alfred would answer. Occasionally, she would head toward Wayne Manor, but turn around halfway there in doubt of herself. As soon as he was declared gone on his trip, though, she would go visit with Alfred, talking about anything that came to mind. The last time they spoke, she could hardly read more than a picture book. So it wasn't the idea of Bruce being there when she needed him, rather having Alfred instead of just Sarah.

Tea finished, except for the bitter swirl at the bottom, she placed the mug atop the newspaper, pulled her black coat over her shoulders, and dashed out to the car waiting in her driveway. It was a quick drive to Wayne Tower. Inside the main lobby, there was no one but her and the two secretaries at the desk in the center. Aurora greeted them on her path to the elevator.

Her heels clicked against the expensive stone floor in an echoing rhythm that went off the beat of hail pounding against the marvelous windows until she stopped at the elevators and pressed the button to go up. Over all the muffled sounds in the room, she heard a low voice. She didn't think anyone else was there yet, as it was a Sunday, she was an hour and a half early, and those who worked on Sundays didn't go in until the afternoon. When she turned around to see who it was, she saw someone leaning over the desk of the pretty secretaries with a small, almost seductive smirk on his lips. They giggled as he flirted with them, and Aurora just rolled her eyes. The men in the company were pigs.

She pressed the 'up' button again, not wanting to have to bear witness to that, when the man walked over and stood right next to her, also pressing the button to go up, even though she already did twice. Aurora looked over at the black-suited man, back to the elevators to check what floor each was on, then up at his face. She had to look at him for a second, and he had to glance quickly down at her before she realized who he was. It was something familiar in his dark eyes—the same dark eyes she knew a long time ago.

"Bruce?" Aurora asked softly, just in case it wasn't really him. He looked the same as he did when she saw him briefly when he was twenty, but this was six years later, and there was something about him that was unnervingly different.


	2. Homecoming

Gotham. His return to the city was relatively quiet, but that wasn't necessarily good. Looking out over the city from the top floor of his dark, empty penthouse, it seemed altered. Darker. _Perhaps it's because I'm looking on it with new eyes_ , he thought, then heard a familiarly accented voice behind him.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Alfred?" he inquired, not taking his eyes away from the skyline of the city. The sun just fell over the horizon, painting the sky with various warm colors, turning the city in front of it black.

"As happy as I am with your return, the city will need to recognize the return of Bruce Wayne, as well."

"What did you have in mind?" he asked, turning to face the older man with a small smirk.

"I believe the circus is in town, sir."

"The circus? Alfred, come on." He tilted his head to the side slightly and raised his eyebrows.

"Yes, sir. But this isn't just an ordinary circus. It's the most famous circus in North America: Haly's Circus. In fact, I believe Vicki Vale will be covering it on site for Gotham City News. It would be a good way to reintroduce yourself to the public."

Bruce sighed and turned around to face the city once more. Alfred was right. In order to protect his identity, he'd have to keep up public appearances.

"Alright, Alfred." He could tell he was satisfied. Alfred had been pushing Bruce toward going out since Bruce's return a few days ago. He knew Alfred thought he was crazy in the way he decided to go about cleaning up Gotham, but the law wasn't getting it done. Blackmail, extortion, murder... It was running rampant in the police force alone. In the first six years of his absence, it only grew worse. He came back for a month before he left again, finally able to do something about it. But that didn't work out as he hoped.

"I've laid out your finest suit, sir," Alfred informed, joy present in his voice. Bruce nodded silently and walked to his bedroom.

By the time he got to the circus, he realized how right Alfred was. It was full of celebrities from Gotham, swarmed by herds of paparazzi, and there were a dozen microphones shoved in his face the second he stepped out of his limousine. The press shouted their unintelligible questions in his direction, but he didn't have to answer because a group of large men dressed in all black pushed everyone aside and urged him through the path they made toward the main tent of the circus. From there, an usher wearing a red vest and a pin that read 'The Flying Graysons' led him to his seat.

"Who are 'The Flying Graysons'?" Bruce asked the man, getting a smile in return.

"Oh, Mr. Wayne. You're in for a treat," he answered and turned back toward the entrance, Bruce watching him go. Among the sea of people the red vest blended into, one face stood out. Salvatore Maroni.

Bruce heard from Alfred that he was filling in as head of the Falcone crime family while Carmine Falcone was "incapacitated". But after his body was found two days ago in the Gotham River, Bruce knew Sal ordered the hit on Carmine. The police couldn't identify the body, but Bruce wasn't the police. Since he returned four days ago, Bruce left several tips to the District Attorney, Harvey Dent, but Sal had yet to be prosecuted.

Suddenly, the lights darkened and a spotlight blazed down on the center of the circus floor.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" a voice boomed, and its owner appeared in a cloud of smoke. "My name is Mr. Haly! You're all in for a special performance, for tonight is the first appearance of The Flying Graysons in Gotham!" The crowd roared wildly. The act was clearly a big deal. After going on about the acts in store, the man vanished in a new puff of smoke and the spotlight flung upward to a family of three, all standing and preparing for the trapeze.

The youngest was the first to fly, and he was spectacular, flipping and connecting by himself, then grabbing onto his parents to continue the act. He couldn't have been older than eight. The crowd began to die down, awe taking over the excitement. Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce spotted Salvatore Maroni and his two bodyguards heading toward the owner's booth. His eyes narrowed and he slipped away from his seat, hidden by the crowd as he followed the trio. Bruce leaned against the corner of the wall and clicked a button on the 'cell phone' in his pocket, recording them.

"Look, Mr. Maroni, I just don't have enough money to be paying you for protection on the side. I'm sorry." Extortion. Sal Maroni was notorious for it, but there was never enough evidence to convict him. Just in case Maroni's money wasn't enough to buy the police force and he needed to pin something on someone else, he had wannabe gangsters do his dirty work.

"No, Mr. Haly, I'm sorry. Because when something bad happens to you and your circus, you won't have the protection you so desperately need." The thick Italian accent stirred anger and revulsion in him. The scourge of Gotham's underworld extorting a circus.

"If you don't need anything else, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Big mistake. Maroni was known to act violently toward disrespect.

"Heh. Sure thing, Mr. H." Bruce clicked the button on the recording device in his pocket to turn it off, deciding it was time to take his leave, when a voice called out from behind him. "Mr. Wayne! Welcome back!" Bruce faced Maroni, expression stoic.

"Maroni," he said flatly in reply.

"You know, you and I should get together sometime. Maybe a round of golf or somethin'." He threw his arm around Bruce's shoulder and smirked. "We can talk business."

"No offense, Mr. Maroni, but in lieu of your recent misunderstanding with the GCPD, I'm afraid I can't be seen doing business with you. It would look bad for my company." He returned the smirk and continued on his way, feeling Maroni's eyes as they practically burned a hole in his head.

Bruce exited the tent and was again met with a barrage of reporters, including Vicki Vale.

"Alright, alright!" he shouted and raised his hands up to get them to quiet down. "One at a time."

"Mr. Wayne," one man called out, "where were you?"

"I was on a skiing trip in the Alps."

"For six years?" the same man urged.

"Have you seen the women in Switzerland?" The crowd of reporters laughed, and a female voice picked up where the man left off, clearly not as amused.

"Why come back now? Does this have anything to do with the death of Joe Chill?"

"No," Bruce stated. Joe Chill. The killer. The man who changed the course of Bruce's life forever when he killed his parents in cold blood right in front of him. He was found dead in his prison cell after he declared he would testify against the Falcone family and Maroni. What did anyone expect to happen?

Right on cue, Bruce's limo pulled up and Alfred opened the door for him. As they drove away, Alfred glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

"I trust you enjoyed the show, sir?"

"I did. I found out Maroni is extorting the circus," Bruce explained.

"Shocking."

"I need you to send this sound bite to the DA. It'll help the prosecution." He set the gadget on the seat next to Alfred, then sat back and took a deep breath, looking out the window.

"Sir, don't you think it's a bit dangerous to attack the head of the mob?"

"Maroni has had this coming far too long. He has Commissioner Loeb in his back pocket. No cop would dare put charges that heavy on Maroni."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that, sir," Alfred replied and dropped a copy of the previous day's newspaper in his lap. The title read: Hero Cop Saves Family of Four.

"Lieutenant James Gordon? You think we can trust him?"

"That's something you'll have to decide for yourself."

The next morning, Bruce sat in a soft armchair, drinking a glass of orange juice, watching the morning news. Vicki Vale was reporting.

"Tragedy struck Haly's Circus as the family known to the world as 'The Flying Graysons' were found brutally murdered in their trailer. The only surviving member of the family, Richard Grayson, will continue to travel with the circus, despite his family's plans to travel abroad. Let's see what Mr. Haly had to say about the horrible events that occurred last night," she said, the screen switching to a frame of Haly, tears in his eyes and young Richard Grayson beneath his arm. He seemed so lost.

 _He can't be older than eight._

"It's a tragedy," Haly stated. "They were amazing people. They deserved so much better than this." He started to choke up and the screen flashed back to solemn Vicki Vale.

"From Amusement Mile, I'm Vicki Vale. Back to you."

Bruce shut off the television, disgusted. "Another child." His voice was shaking with anger. "Anonymously contact the DA. Tell him to get in touch with James Gordon." He stood from the chair and faced Alfred, who was standing behind him. "Also, Lucius Fox is head of the applied sciences division of Wayne Enterprises. I'd like to get in touch with him, as well." He paused. "I think it's time we move back to the manor."

Alfred smiled. "I'll have it done by lunch, sir."

Bruce nodded silently and started walking toward the garage.

"I'm going to talk to this boy."

His Lamborghini sped down the streets of Gotham, zipping past the slow-moving traffic. He knew he wouldn't get pulled over. In this town, a traffic violation was as much an offense as putting a sock on inside-out. The thought made him shake his head and exhale. If you expect people to respect the big laws, you have to enforce the small ones.

He drove over the Gotham Pioneer Bridge at a great speed, making his way to Amusement Mile, car sticking out like a sore thumb in Old Gotham. He arrived minutes later, watching from his car as the circus packed up. Bruce slipped out of his car and looked across the empty lot, where he found the trailer closed off with crime scene tape. He walked across the lot to the trailer next to it and knocked on the door a few times. The same boy from the performance, Richard Grayson, answered. He looked miserable and exhausted, completely different from the confidence he exuded just last night. The boy's eyes widened slightly.

"You're Bruce Wayne!"

"You know who I am?"

"There isn't a person alive who doesn't know your name, Mr. Wayne." The boy paused. "You here to ask questions? I already answered enough." Bruce put his hands in his pocket and crouched down slightly. That was a feeling he could sympathize with.

"I came by to talk to you. I want you to know that I understand what you're feeling. What you're going through."

"Oh, yeah, rich boy?" he shot, raising a brow.

 _Ouch_.

"My parents were killed, too. Right in front of me. I know what it's like to be left alone." His facial expression was apology enough. "It's okay. I wanted to tell you that if you ever need anything, Richard, go to Wayne Tower and ask for me." Bruce pointed toward the skyscraper marked with a large 'W'. The boy nodded and Bruce turned to leave.

"Mr. Wayne?" he asked. Bruce turned to face him. "No one calls me Richard. It's Dick." He smiled slightly, a gesture Bruce returned. The shared pain between them was palpable. He knew he would hear from the boy by the end of the week.

As soon as he was back in his car, Alfred called.

"Yes, Alfred?"

"I've done everything you asked, sir. And Mr. Fox expects you for a meeting at two o'clock."

"Roger." The line cut off after Bruce hit the 'end' button on the screen in the center console. He started the his car and sped through Park Row, back across the Pioneer Bridge, and to the Diamond District, the location of Wayne Tower. Bruce entered the ground floor after parking on the street right in front of the building. He made his way for the elevator, stopping to make an appearance with the secretaries on the way, then pressed the 'up' button and smiled briefly down at the girl next to him before watching what floor each elevator was on.

"Bruce?" a soft voice called out. No one called him by his first name anymore.

He turned around to locate the voice, but found it was the woman standing right next to him. He tried to recognize the face of the polished blonde woman, and when realization struck, his brows raised slightly in surprise. Aurora Rider. He knew her before he left. She was different than every single employee he had. She had dreams, aspirations, and plans for Gotham. And for more reasons than just those, she was contender for the position of CEO of Wayne Enterprises, somewhere she never would have been had Bruce not found out she was working there when he returned to Gotham briefly before leaving again.

"Aurora. How long has it been?" he asked with a smile.

"Six years, judging by the day the media told everyone you were gone. I can't be sure, though. You never did say goodbye to me."

"I'm sor-"

"It's fine," she stated with a smile and that same soft voice. "I've heard how the women in Switzerland are." Her grin was small and it was clear she was toying with him. _Keeping up appearances is going to kill me_ , he thought.

"You should let me explain that."

"You could explain it to me at dinner," she suggested, her small smile growing. "No disappearing."

"No promises," he replied, smiling back. "Seven o'clock sharp. The Blue Heron."

Her smile widened just a little more. "Mr. Fox is expecting you. You should head down to the bottom floor. In case you've forgotten, that's where applied sciences is located."

Bruce faced forward again and made a face at the realization of the 'up' arrow being the only one pressed. She said nothing in reply as he turned back around and pressed the arrow pointing down. She just smiled like a little girl in a candy shop and stepped into the elevator, heading up.


	3. Reunion

She still felt the high of surprise from seeing Bruce again after her meeting. There was a small smile on her face that just wouldn't go away, and it got people to look at her funny. She didn't care. Aurora Rider stepped out from the elevator, now in the almost empty ground floor lobby, and pulled her coat back over her shoulders. Three men standing near the exit didn't make her any more worried than walking around Gotham would—she assumed they were bodyguards of some important political figure or something. By the time she was at the door, they were planted firmly in front of it.

"Excuse me. I need to-"

"Miss Rider," one of the men started in a thick Italian accent, "our boss would like a word with you." And with that, they jammed a dark bag over her head and carried her through the hail to a car. They didn't care if anyone saw. No one would risk getting themselves involved unless they were suicidal. It was a long while before she was granted the privilege of sight again, and when she did, she wished for the darkness to return. It wasn't the kind of light that illuminated an entire room: all she could see was herself, the chair she was tied to, and about a foot in front of her. The light was stark white and burned her eyes. Instead of making a fool of herself and searching desperately through the thick blackness for a face or any sort of key that would give away where she was, she kept her eyes down on her knees covered by her skirt.

"Miss Aurora Rider. Next in line for CEO of Wayne Enterprises. You certainly have a bright future," someone spoke from the dark in an accent similar to the men who took her, the idea that he knew exactly who she was clearly meant to intimidate her. It worked. "It would be a shame if it all vanished before your eyes." Cold metal pressed against her temple and she gasped, eyes finding those of the man who must have spoken to her. He was severely Italian, and looked as harsh and cold as the middle of winter. Aurora knew that face. Salvatore "The Boss" Maroni. He was in charge of all bad business in Gotham, so the fact the he was standing before her with a gun to her head made her wonder what she could have possibly done to get involved with him. Her eyes went from his face back to her knees. "Here's my proposition. You tell pretty boy Bruce Wayne that if he doesn't start to talk serious business with me, you're the one who's going to end up at the bottom of the Gotham River. And with winter coming around, they probably won't find your body until the water thaws in spring." As the man finished, he was met with a herd of deep voiced chuckling from the darkness. "Capiche?" Before she could have thought of anything clever to say back to him, a sharp pain in her arm made her jump and make a small noise, and the room started to spin around her in a pool of black and white. No matter how much she fought, her eyes fell heavy and her hands relaxed without her permission as a dark weight as crushing as the Italian man's gaze dropped on her. "He'll know who I am," the man said, chuckling once again. She felt material slip over her head. Everything went black.

When she woke up, she was at her own home in her own bed, covers pulled over her and tea sitting on the nightstand on a silver platter with sugar and honey in their rightful containers next to it. It was all a dream? Aurora moved to sit up and realized that it was not, in fact, a dream. Her entire left arm was sore, and a certain unnatural exhaustion lingered deep inside of her. What time was it? Pushing through the discomfort, she rolled over to look at the clock. 7:30. She wasn't out for too long, then. She sat up and stretched, and then realization struck.

Aurora shot out of bed, which she immediately regretted because of the head rush that came with it, and scurried to her closet. She was going to be late to meet Bruce. She glanced quickly at the large mirror outside of her closet, and then froze. The girl was already in the dress she planned to wear, her hair brushed and jewelry on. It was unnerving and creepy to think of who could have done it, but she tried to push the thought out of her mind and accept that it happened and there was no changing that.

She spent five minutes searching for her phone before she found it. The number for Wayne Manor would have been dusty if it could sit on a shelf, so hoping it hadn't changed since Bruce left, she pressed call and waited for an answer. There wasn't one, but it did go to voicemail recorded with Alfred's voice. She left one explaining she would be late and apologizing for it, then hurried out the door, coat on once more, and slipped into her car. She sped to the restaurant they planned to meet at and searched desperately for Bruce. What was she supposed to tell him? There wasn't much he could do about Maroni. It seemed like there wasn't much anyone could do about Maroni. Of course she didn't want him to hurt her, but who was supposed to protect Bruce?

A host took her coat and folded it over his arm, and then led her to Bruce's table, giving her the opportunity to check if there was a noticeable mark from whatever Maroni knocked her out with. There was, but it was tiny.

She sat at the small table and the host rested her coat on the back of the comfortable chair.

"I tried to call..." she began nervously.

"I'm always an advocate for arriving fashionably late." Bruce smirked.

The nerves she felt didn't fade in the slightest, so she had to make a desperate attempt to hide them. Aurora brushed her hair back over her shoulders and kept up her smile.

"It's understandable that you would be," she began, "since you took a six year absence and didn't think to inform anyone." The hurt in her voice was clear, almost overpowering the fear. She couldn't understand why she felt so offended. They didn't know each other anymore, and being close as children didn't mean anything. She regretted forcing him into dinner with her, but he did agree to go, so maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. Her sarcastic tone was a little too intense for their second conversation in so long, so she tried to lighten up a bit. There was already a glass of dark, red wine sitting in a crystal glass on the table. She took it casually and sipped from it.

The conflict of whether or not she should tell him what happened distracted her. He was an observant man, and would find out sooner or later. And while later was preferable, it would probably be sooner.

"You left and this city burned, Bruce," she stated with a slight smile. It was odd how easy he was to talk to after all these years. "Who would have thought you're such a big influence even though you spend most of your time locked in your cave of a manor?" Still harsh. Aurora exhaled, embarrassed, and drank more of the sweet wine. "I'm sorry. It's just...Gotham is a lot worse than the one you left all those years ago." She quickly finished the rest of the drink and circled the rim tiredly with her finger, quiet and afraid to talk again in case she made an even bigger fool of herself.

 _I really should tell him_ , she thought. _He deserves to know. He deserves to find some way to protect himself._ But pulling him into the mess with Maroni wouldn't do anyone any good. However, just what they did to her in that short amount of time was traumatizing, and she didn't even do anything wrong. As soon as she did something against Maroni's wishes... She shuddered at the thought and looked up to find Bruce had been speaking to her.

"Yeah," she nodded in agreement with whatever he said, laughing once under her breath.

"Yeah?" Bruce repeated back to her, keeping up the grin. "So you _have_ had a rough day?" It was clear to her that he could tell she wasn't paying attention as they spoke. Bruce gave her a stern look and asked, "Did something happen?"

She blinked at him, trying to figure out how her answer could have been non-applicable. Aurora didn't have enough experience with this kind of thing to slide by without listening to a single word.

"You don't know the half of it," the girl mumbled and sat back in the now uncomfortable chair.

A passing waiter stopped and curtly refilled her glass before leaving to tend to the other customers. It was hard to make eye contact with Bruce across the table because she knew she was going to lie to him, and he knew when she was lying when she was eight: how could that intuition change? Her eyes stayed trained on the collar of his suit, just below his face so it would seem more like she was looking at him.

"Just a lot of guy problems," she passively continued from behind her already half empty glass. "You wouldn't understand." Guy problems—it wasn't a total lie. "Speaking of guy problems," Aurora began in desperate search of a subject change, "tell me about all those Swiss women on your ski trip, Mister Wayne. I hear they're just wonderful there." Both her brows raised expectantly and she leaned forward on the table. The pressure on her arm gave it an uncomfortable, sore pain, so she sat back again. She realized she switched her angle to one that would allow him to see the small bruise around the spot of the injection for just a moment, so she had to readjust her angle nonchalantly, which was sadly the hardest thing she ever did.

Half of herself said to tell him, half of herself said to drink until she couldn't walk straight, pass out in bed, and let the evening end.

#

She seemed tired, the way she eluded him. But who was he to let elusion bother him? He would dodge personal questions all day if she was the one asking. He decided that if she was going to tell him, she would, wondering what happened to the sunny little girl he remembered her as.

Bruce shrugged off the 'guy problems' statement. The way she said it made it seem as though she would rather avoid the topic.

"The women in Switzerland?" He almost forgot his alibi. "Oh," he barely smiled, "I've got to keep the press interested. I spent most of my time in the Alps." He smirked as she raised her eyebrows, playing this game with him. He noticed the slightest grimace on her face as she rested some weight on her arm. He narrowed his eyes and caught a glimpse of the bruise on her arm, which she quickly tried to hide from his view. "I'm more interested in what you've been up to as of late, Miss Rider," Bruce explained, taking another faux sip of wine.

Her hand was just barely shaking, and she was downing the glasses of wine like they were water. _What happened to you?_ he thought. Bruce would never drink to a level of intoxication. It only dulled the mind. But he could certainly play the part of the drunk billionaire.

#

Six years? Aurora went skiing with a friend of hers for three days when she was fifteen, and even that was too much.

"I'm sure you had to entertain yourself somehow." She smiled a little and refilled her glass herself. Many years ago, she gave up caring what Bruce thought of her. They never saw each other or spoke, and they only spoke in brief greeting when they were at the same events. But now that he was back, her feelings for him were already changing, even though she begged them not to. She sipped from the glass again.

Did he not get that she wasn't planning to tell him about the day's events? Or did he know something was up? Aurora drank the rest of the wine, set the glass down gently and just looked at him for a long moment.

"You know who Salvatore Maroni is, right?" Her eyes narrowed just enough to make it seem like she was genuinely curious, or maybe even had a story to tell about some scandal that went down in his absence. She trembled slightly with nerves. Her hands were the only things that shook, so unless she was downing the wine, they were placed elegantly in her lap. How would he respond when she told him? What would he say? Would he believe her? There was something the man said to her while he held that gun to her head: He'll know who I am. Who wouldn't? He was infamous for being one of Gotham's worst people. Aurora chewed the inside of her lip, waiting for him to respond. She took another long sip of the wine. Three glasses and dinner hadn't even arrived yet.

#

She was really the only thing he missed about Gotham. It was a plague to the world, a festering wound. There were those who sought to destroy it and those who sought to rule it. On the night his parents were slain, Bruce made a promise to rid Gotham of those who sought to harm it and it's people. He found himself drifting in and out of focus as he remembered the first night that he left Gotham as Batman. It was a setup—a trap for him.

He was brand new to the life of Batman, and the city had yet to take him in. Hell, he had yet to take the city in. He was doing some simple surveillance on the GCPD, and around that time, Harvey Dent was still working in internal affairs and was in collaboration with Batman. He was on the trail of the SWAT commander Branden, who had been under the suspicion of Dent for being an enforcer for the Falcones. As Batman, he broke into Branden's home while he was on duty, but was met by the entire SWAT team, who also had plans to raid Branden's home that night. Even with all of his training he couldn't disarm and incapacitate all of them, and was stuck in a crossfire.

He was brought back suddenly by Aurora's mention of Salvatore Maroni.

Bruce's head snapped up. So that was it. It was easy enough to see that she had been threatened by him now that she said his name. He would play oblivious, giving her the idea that he was still ignorant to the events of the night.

"Of course. He's the head of the Falcone crime family. Everyone knows that," he stated. He brought his glass to his lips but only pretended to drink from it. His voice was nonchalant, perfectly portraying the increasingly intoxicated rich man. All he needed was for her to tell him what happened. It would be enough to testify and put The Boss behind bars. "Why do you ask?"

Aurora's hands moved anxiously in her lap when she replied. "I have a friend who called me today—Anna. I guess Salvatore had a message for you, and Anna didn't think she'd be able to meet with you to tell you since you just got back. She said he told her to tell you that if you don't start talking serious business with him, he'd start to kill...people. He said you'd know who he is. She wasn't sure if she wanted to tell you or not until early today when she called me. That's why I was late."

Great, it was a "my friend" story. Nevertheless, it gave Bruce the information he needed. Aurora must have been confronted earlier in the day and threatened by Maroni. If he knew that he could get to Bruce by attacking her, then perhaps it was time for him to stop playing games. He had all of the evidence stockpiled, someone willing to prosecute, and someone willing to make the arrest. All that was left now was determining when to strike.

The waiter came at the end of Aurora's sentence, setting down two plates of fine cuisine. He watched her move it around absently on her plate, taking a few bites here and there.

"So, she was wondering what she should do now that you know."

His eyes locked with hers and he saw a light that was familiar to some distant part of his memory and was now a breath of fresh air.

He took another false drink from his glass of wine. He thought about the situation as the waiter set down his dish in front of him. He began eating at the same pace as Aurora; slowly and absently. Bruce looked at her with a fixed, hard expression.

"Well, normally I would tell her to get in contact with the GCPD and enter protective custody, but who knows who you can trust there nowadays?" He rested his chin on his fist, counting the glasses as she downed them. How many now? Four? She had a right to a little self-indulgence.

His attack had to be that night. If he didn't attack Maroni right away, who knew what could happen by tomorrow? He checked his watch: 8:00. It was still too early.

"Maybe Anna should take the day off tomorrow," Bruce suggested nonchalantly as he took another "sip" from his glass. He looked at her with an expression that said, "I see right through your story".

Probably just as embarrassed as she was afraid of the situation, she let him talk to her and tell her what he thought she should do. One of the options he gave her, going to the police, was not really an option. Half of those guys would have no problem handing her over to Maroni. The other half wouldn't be able to protect her. And taking the day off wouldn't matter. Home or working, they could get to her.

"Maybe my friend," she continued slowly, "isn't sure she's safe anywhere."

That was when he gave her that look. The look that said he knew there was no Anna, and that she was talking about herself. She almost blushed, giving a pained smile to the waiter as he refilled her glass. The food on her plate was arranged into piles of small pieces. The uncomfortable, tense aura surrounding her made it clear that this was very, very far from how she wanted her evening to go.

"Do you have somewhere you need to be?" Aurora asked as he glanced at his watch.

 _Yes._

"No," he explained, bringing his focus back to the girl, her shoulders visibly relaxing in response to the assurance that she would not be alone yet.

"Just..." Aurora paused, sighed. "Just tell me what to do, Bruce."

The act was up. She knew he knew, leaving no point to pretend he didn't.

"How about I drive you to Wayne Manor? You can stay there tonight." Her worried expression didn't fade. The last time she stayed at the manor was the night before Bruce's parents were killed. "Wayne Enterprises has powerful allies, Aurora," he winked and her cheeks darkened in response. If he could pull her mind off Maroni and onto more distracting matters, he could probably get her to calm down.

She nodded in agreement to his offer.

"Good. There's nowhere safer in all of Gotham," he explained, giving her a reassuring smile. It was true. When it came to security, Wayne Manor was a fortress. Impenetrable. "I wouldn't worry too much about our friend Sal."

She nodded absently.

"What about you?" Aurora asked, drinking even more of the wine. It would have been in her own best interest if she stopped, but it was also best if she could get herself to relax so he didn't have to mess with her head. "You're not going to give him whatever it is he wants, are you? I mean... What is it that he wants?"

"Don't worry about me, Aurora. Of course I won't give in. I don't negotiate with gangsters. He just wants a cut of the company's profit." The waiter passed by their table. "Check please," he turned his attention back to Aurora. "We can talk more in the car."

If he could get Aurora back to his home, he could have Alfred monitor her from the cave while Batman went about his business. It would be the first night in six years he donned the cape and cowl. He was confident enough in his training to be successful on this mission. If he could keep Aurora safe, then Maroni's leverage would disappear.

The waiter quickly brought the bill. Bruce paid in cash so they could leave as soon as possible, and left a large tip. Aurora pushed back her plate, finished the wine, and stood. "I'm following you," she said.

Bruce put her coat around her, expertly avoiding the bruise from the injection, but it did little to warm her. By the time they got to his car, the weatherman for the paper became right. The hail turned to heavy snow, causing a shudder of cold to wash across her. It was only eight fifteen, but winter made it dark at five, and the blizzard only made that worse. Bruce got her door, making sure she didn't faceplant into a pile of snow, then walked around to his own side.

"Can I tell you something?" Aurora asked, looking over at him.

#

It was odd to confide in him so much after twelve years of scarcely even talking, but it was also natural. Aurora wished she could have grown up with him, been around him more and knew the answers to all the questions the GCPD and press were always throwing in peoples' faces. But she didn't, so the rumors and lies told about him were all she had to go off.

"Anything."

An overwhelming amount of thought plagued her mind. There was so much she could have said in that moment. She could have told him how she wished they could have grown up together, or how sorry she was for what happened to him, or told him everything he didn't know about her, but instead, she just settled with a simple, "I missed you," and looked out the dark window to the even darker city.

"I missed you, too, Aurora."

Those few words had plenty of impact.

Still cold, she pulled her coat tight around her waist and tucked her hands under her arms. She was beyond drowsy from exhaustion and the wine. There was a gentle whirring she could hear over their breathing—a sound that worried her, like something about to go wrong with his car—but she couldn't stay focused on it. The white noise it created made her eyes heavy. It was quiet for a few minutes before she spoke again.

"Why would he use me? Why wouldn't he just threaten you directly? How am I a part in this at all?" Aurora remembered Maroni saying that she was soon to be the CEO, but she wasn't yet, so what could she possibly mean to this? It had been years since she even saw Bruce. Even more than that, they really didn't speak since they were kids. She meant nothing to everyone in the equation, so it made no sense to her why she was even involved.

#

He kept a consistent speed to account for the falling snow. Bruce was a masterful driver, but it was better to keep Aurora relaxed.

He noticed that she seemed cold, so he reached for the center console and turned on the heat, which covered the sound of the computer running in the background. Bruce took a deep breath, knowing the answer to her question before she even finished asking it.

"He knows that I won't simply buckle because he's a crime lord. He must have some way of knowing that we have history, and he's trying to use you as leverage. It's a coward's tactic, but it's what you can expect from a gangster."

He could tell that she was becoming increasingly more worried as the minutes ticked by. Hopefully, once they arrived back at Wayne Manor, she would be able to relax. He turned on the heat hoping it would help her, but it wasn't a physical coldness. It was a deep and fearful cold.

"Not long now."

#

"But, Bruce," she started, "we haven't had history since I was, like, eight years old. I mean, I work for you, but we haven't talked since we were kids. You didn't even tell me you were leaving when you did." Her lips pressed together in confusion and something of worry. She wasn't all Maroni could have found to use as leverage—for the love of God, he was Bruce Wayne. What precious things didn't he have? She was just a girl working for him whose family was once close with his. There was nothing between them anymore.

"Regardless, Maroni has targeted you. But like I said, Wayne Enterprises has powerful allies." She watched him move again, about to ask what he meant by that when there was a dial tone, click, then an answering voice. One she was more familiar with than Bruce's.

"Yes, Master Bruce?" Alfred. The thought of the man made her smile.

"Put some tea on, Alfred. We have a guest," Bruce replied.

"Right away, sir." The line cut off.

"You don't have to do that," Aurora pointed out.

"It's no problem. Alfred loves making tea. I don't drink it much."

Driving up the paved pathway between two rows of trees, the large cast iron gates began to swing open. Bruce drove the car around the large fountain in the center of the entryway, parking in front of the door.

She took a deep breath, trying to relax and stop freaking out at him. He made a good point. There really was no worth in trying to figure out why he was using her. Aurora just needed to accept that he was and move on—worry about more pressing issues.

"Just don't do anything you're going to regret tomorrow, Bruce. Okay?"

Her lips pressed into a line and her brows pulled together in worry. The lights from his driveway were hardly visible through the thickly falling snow, but she was so tired and full of wine, that even their dim glow hurt her eyes.

There was a man standing at the door waiting for them, and Aurora smiled to herself when she realized it was Alfred. Bruce parked the car at the bottom of the stairs, then walked around to help her out and escort her into the warmth of his home. She looked over to Bruce, who was already walking away from her and Alfred when he spoke.

"Alfred, could you see that Miss Rider finds her way to the kitchen? I'll be there shortly."

"Of course, sir. Right this way, Miss Rider," Alfred said, leading her toward the kitchen. Bruce turned the corner out of sight.

Where was he off to already? Alfred started walking away, saying something like, "This way," but Aurora was more focused on watching Bruce leave and check his watch. By the time they were in the kitchen, she thawed slightly and adjusted to the heat of the manor. Alfred handed her a small cup of tea and sat next to her.

"He hasn't even been back for a week, and he's already starting with the vanishing acts?"

"Well, you know him. He's quite the busy man," Alfred explained. "It's good to have him back home, though." Alfred smiled. "You must be excited. The next CEO of Wayne Enterprises. It's quite the responsibility," Alfred said, clearly trying to keep Aurora occupied while Bruce went about his business. "But I trust that the company is in good hands. Master Bruce certainly gets...well...less than entertained when it comes to business."

"I think I'm excited, but the publicity won't be any fun. Seeing what they say about Bruce makes me wonder what they'll say about me." The thought of all the terrible things that would be made up about her made her want to cringe. What would her parents think? Aurora sighed and held the cup of tea with both of her hands. It was soothing, both the scent and the heat. It burned her hands, but it made her feel better.

"Master Bruce just disregards the press. Today was the first time he's been seen in years and he answered only three of their questions." Alfred chuckled, turning away from Aurora once again.

"Where does he go?" she asked. "Where does he go when he disappears?" Bruce had been alone his entire life. How did he spend all that time?

Her heart ached for Bruce, but at the same time, he seemed too satisfied with his life. Smug, even. She exhaled heavily and looked back to Alfred, taking her first sip of tea. It warmed her entire body, but it didn't make her feel any better like it did only a few hours earlier.

 _He said he would be right back_ , she thought.

Alfred looked in the direction Bruce went.

"His study is that way. I couldn't tell you what he does in there. I really only go in to occasionally straighten up." Alfred shrugged and took a drink of the tea he poured for himself.

She smiled fondly at him—he really was a great man for all he'd been through and what he put up with. The heat of the tea began to set in, making her pull her hands away and look down at her bright red skin. It must've been a lot hotter than she felt. All the wine in her not only had her mind dull, but her senses, too.

Aurora looked over her shoulder at the sound of approaching footsteps. Bruce. Her smile widened just a little and she looked back at her tea again. It suddenly didn't seem so appetizing. Her hands hurt, her stomach ached, her head was spinning, she was exhausted, and she was afraid. Aurora watched Alfred walk away and Bruce take his place.

"I apologize for my absence. I hope Alfred didn't tell you any jokes." Bruce smirked slightly as Alfred patted him on the back and went out the doors. "You'll be safe here," he explained. "You should relax."

"I am relaxed," she exhaled, pressing the palms of her hands against the cool stone counter. "Really."

"Your definition of relaxed is clearly different from mine." He took a sip of the tea Alfred left for him. "Do you want me to show you where you'll be sleeping tonight?" Bruce asked and took another sip. Aurora looked up at him from under her lashes.

"If you answer one question first."

Her hands still pressed against the counter, she sat up straight and looked right into his eyes. Part of her regretted locking gazes with him because of the confidence he exuded, but she thought it would make her seem a little more in control of herself. He acted almost expectant of all her questions tonight—annoyingly so.

"Anything," Bruce replied.

"Tell me where you go. You kept yourself holed up in this place for so long. How are you still sane?" She pushed off the counter, hands now resting in her lap against the material of her dress so the redness wouldn't be visible to him.

"I never said I was sane," he answered with a small smirk.

"I'm serious," she paused. "You can lie to everyone else, Bruce, but you can't lie to me." Her brows raised slightly and she waited for his answer. Hopefully he wouldn't lie. Hopefully he would just tell her what was going on so she could go to bed and forget about the day. All the years he was gone, she thought his return would be some amazing event.

She was wrong.

"Alright. I'll tell you." Aurora's eyes flicked to his cup as he set it down, then her eyes went back to him. "Do you remember when I said Wayne Enterprises has powerful allies? Well, it's more like ally." A look of confusion washed over her and she nodded at his question. Of course she remembered him saying that. It was no more than an hour ago. But an ally? An ally in what? "Only a select few people know this, but our company has been funding the Batman. I know how to contact him. That's why I've been so mysterious. I'm very particular about who knows this information," Bruce explained. "Obviously, I have to trust you to keep this to yourself now that you know." His expression was stern and he kept eye contact with Aurora.

The intoxicating, inviting look in his eyes made her breath catch. Did he do that deliberately, or was he naturally that charming? Struggling to keep her sense of control, she didn't give into his gaze. She just tightened her hands back around the teacup and tried not to think about the burn. It was becoming harder and harder to keep focused.

"What? I... Why would he trust you?" Aurora scoffed. "Why would you trust him? He's not even real. He was a rumor. And even if he was real, he hasn't shown his face around here in years. He's letting the city go to Hell. I guess you were a little preoccupied in the Alps though, weren't you?" There was the power she was searching for. After a pause where his answer should have been, she relaxed just slightly, embarrassed that she was acting so poorly as his guest, and said, "Of course you can trust me, Bruce. Who else am I going to tell?"

He was quiet.

Aurora slid off the chair and turned away from him, looking at the clock to distract herself. There wasn't one reason for her to be so mad at him. Well, there were plenty of reasons. She was drunk, drugged, exhausted, overwhelmed, terrified and confused. She was on overdrive, and if she wasn't so afraid of it, she would have wanted to be alone.

"Where should I sleep?" Aurora asked, too caught up in herself and her embarrassment to apologize.

"Alfred?" Bruce called, the man appearing in an instant. "Show Miss Rider where she'll be staying tonight, please."

 _I meant for you to show me_ , she grumbled internally, following Alfred anyway.

Her dress was becoming restricting and her heels made her feet ache. Bruce never really answered her question, which only annoyed her more. He was like a bad politician, avoiding every question and making up something that almost seemed like an actual answer. Almost. He walked casually away to wherever it was he liked to go and left her with Alfred.

She followed him up the stairs, down a hall and past the threshold of a grand room. Had she been any other person in Gotham, the room would have been strikingly grandiose to her, but it was about the same as her own bedroom, just a little nicer. It made her wonder what his bedroom looked like.

"Thank you, Alfred," she dismissed, and then sat at the end of the bed.

Nerves riddled her entire body, primarily her chest, stomach and head. Aurora felt sick, but she was not about to throw up in Bruce's house. Instead, she held her head in her hands until the nausea went away, then began to slip off her shoes.

"God..." she muttered, letting them fall to the floor.

Alfred gone and Bruce missing, she decided to go raid Bruce's room for clothes even though she knew it was severely inappropriate. She didn't take time to turn on the light and look around, rather found the massive walk-in closet where he kept all his clothes and pulled a gray t-shirt off its hanger. She ended up finding a nearby pair of sweatpants, surprisingly enough, and took them. Even Bruce Wayne had to hit the gym every once in awhile.

Aurora changed in his room, carrying her dress over her arm to the guest room. Her black bra and underwear were completely covered by the shirt and pants, which were big and comfortable. The massive wooden door closed behind her with a loud click. She pulled back the giant comforter and sheet, curled up like a ball under them, and stared into the thick curtain of darkness surrounding her. Her eyes began to burn and her throat constricted, and then she just started crying, the weight of the evening harsh and crushing. Nothing good came of the day she had long hoped for, but what was she expecting from Gotham?


	4. The Contract

She kept crying until sleep took her. It seemed to be the only way she could let out all her stress. And there was quite a bit of it.

It wasn't long before she heard a gentle whir, which she assumed to be nothing more than the heat turning on or Bruce returning from doing whatever it was he left to do. She thought about getting up, but by the time she decided what she would even say to him, she fell back asleep.

It was when she heard another noise that she groaned and sat up. Her head pounded, stomach kicked with pain, and her eyes burned with dried tears. Down her cheeks, along with the pillow she favored lying on, were tear stains. Aurora rubbed her eyes and looked toward the door, where the noise came from. Was it Bruce? Alfred?

Out of nowhere, the door crumpled and hit the ground with a loud boom that pierced the night's silence. The girl jumped and gripped the comforter tightly, pulling it up over herself as if it could offer her some sort of protection. She stared at the terrifying silhouette of the figure before her. First, everything with Maroni and Bruce. Now this guy? The itchy tear stains on her face, burns on her hand, and hangover were numb compared to how frigid she had become. Her entire body froze like she was submerged in the river Maroni threatened to throw her in. No words came to mind—just terror.

Where was Bruce?

 **#**

Donning the suit was exhilarating. It felt good to be back. He pressed a button located on his right gauntlet and a row of lights began illuminating the rest of the cave; the armory, the vehicle bay, and the flight platform. He connected his utility belt around his waist and it locked in with an electronic 'click'. He pressed another button on his gauntlet and the Batwing started, the engine roaring and exhaust shooting out the back end. The sound must've woken the bats in the cave, because loud chirping could be heard in the background.

"Sir!" Alfred's voice called out over the sound of the Batwing. "What shall I do about Miss Rider?"

"Just keep an eye on her. Activate the security countermeasures," Bruce shouted back, and the Batwing began to hover off the ground. He walked beneath it and a boarding platform dropped from the underbelly. He stepped onto it, and the platform shot back up into the Batwing, putting Batman right in the driver's seat. He took the controls and rotated the Batwing toward the exit, pushing the throttle forward and darting out of the cave.

"I shall keep you posted on Miss Rider's activity, sir," Alfred's voice called over the radio.

"You do that." Batman cut the line as the Batwing maneuvered through the caverns of the Batcave, shooting him from the manor. He pushed into full throttle and began heading toward the Bowery, where Maroni's restaurant and headquarters were located.

He was jettisoned from the Batwing at an incredible speed. He dive bombed straight to the ground, allowing his cape to parachute out to give him a softer landing. He landed in front of two of Maroni's armed guards, who leaped back in terror and dropped their guns. Batman lunged forward and disposed of them silently. His training was without flaw.

He was standing just outside the front door to Maroni's restaurant. He pulled a small EMP emitter from his belt and tossed it at the window of the restaurant that faced the street. It beeped a few times, and then all of the interior lights died. Frantic shouting in Italian was quick to follow. Time to make an entrance.

Just as Batman was about to blow the door open, Alfred's voice called out in his ear.

"Master Bruce! There's someone inside. I believe he's gotten to Miss Rider." His voice was strained and breathless. Batman's eyes widened and he touched a button on his gauntlet, calling the Batwing to him. He took one last look at the restaurant and then turned away, aiming his grapple to the sky and firing it to be towed back toward the manor. The gun began to retract, pulling him up and into the Batwing.

 _Hold on, Aurora_ , he thought to himself in worry.

 **#**

She was silent except for her breathing, which was uneven. The entire house felt unnervingly quiet, even though an alarm started to blare.

"Where's Wayne?" the man's voice boomed.

Aurora saw something through the dark room—something that glinted when it caught the light from the hall. The thing she assumed was a sword stopped a couple inches from her neck, but she could still feel its razor edge and cold metal. Aurora pulled the blanket up higher, trying not to be too shaky.

"Tell me," she winced at his harsh voice and felt tears pricking her eyes despite her willing them not to, "and I'll consider letting you live."

"I don't know where he is," she whispered in a voice as shaky as the rest of her body.

This stranger didn't like her answer.

The tip of the sword made contact with her throat and she gasped.

"He left! I swear!" she shouted. "I don't know where he went!" Tears were falling from her eyes, but she managed to keep her crying silent. This is happening, she thought, and I can't change it. Trying to make her voice stern, she searched for the man's face with a solid look.

"Don't think for a second that even if I did know, I would tell you. Should I really believe that you're going to let me live through tonight? Bruce won't let you win." Her eyes narrowed and jaw clenched, expression the complete opposite of what she felt.

"Wrong answer!"

She couldn't see it coming, so when the man ripped her from the bed and threw her, Aurora screamed and had no way to protect herself. She was forced into the wall and landed harshly on the ground, head striking the wood floor. She blinked hard, trying to clarify everything around her, but it was in vain.

She rolled onto her back, groaning, and struggled to sit up. Shattering sounded from a window and a rain of glistening glass and snow poured in. It slipped across her skin, piercing and cutting her, but she hardly felt it. Blinking again, she tried to make out a new figure in the room that was lit only by the moon and the glow of the hall's light. One in all black with a cape.

Batman.

Aurora pushed herself away from the battle, using her feet to move back because she couldn't stand, glass digging into her heels. The black room was spinning, blurred together by specks of white and brushes of red. Muffled strings of words and loud echoes of cracking and booming pounded in her head as Batman and the intruder fought.

She saw what she thought was her final sight. A gun pointed directly at her. She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut, hiding her face in her shoulder and pushing herself with the heels of her feet again until she hit the wall and rendered herself cornered, trapped by her own stupidity.

Aurora surprised herself by wishing Bruce was with her in that moment. He would have known what to do.

Bang! The gunshot shook the walls and floor, and the cold snow landed on her cuts and sent icy pain through her. Everything was a swirl of colors singing her to sleep. Nothing hit her. Aurora blinked, looking up to find Batman lying before her, clutching his side. The other man heard what must have been police sirens and dashed away.

She sat there in shock for a long time. Everything felt surreal and her body screamed in pain. It was so cold. She swallowed thickly and leaned forward over Batman.

"You're him," she breathed. "You're real." Aurora couldn't control her body and just stared at him. Her limbs were foreign to her and her mind was blank. "Are you okay?" she finally spoke up, saying the words only because they seemed necessary.

The tear stains on her cheeks were covered with new ones, but she couldn't tell she was crying. She couldn't tell she was bleeding all over Bruce's previously pristine floor, either. Her hands itched to remove his mask so she could make sure his head was okay, but she knew that was a bad plan. Instead, she let her hands travel to the area he was holding, using his body as a guide in the darkness.

She could hear footsteps and clamoring outside, and she worried there were more people coming to hurt her, but she realized it was only the police. In Gotham, though, they could be just as dangerous.

"What...what should I do?" She felt like she was talking to Bruce all over again—asking for some sort of guidance or help. Aurora was in over her head far deeper than she thought.

Batman stood, still clutching his side. "Come with me," he ordered, clearly out of breath. "Hurry." He extended his hand to her.

Her entire body was shaking and she was silent. Being in shock will do that.

She took Batman's hand and let him pull her through Bruce's home. Aurora stumbled down the stairs, holding the railing for support. Every step she took, the shards of glass in her feet dug in further and further. They ended up in the foyer, where Alfred was standing guard over the door as police filed in.

"Look after her," Batman told him. "She's bleeding, and she was struck in the head." Aurora was staring at him, unable to take in anything he was saying. She glanced quickly from him to Alfred, and by the time she looked back, Batman was gone. Her chest sank and her brows pulled together in confusion. Was she imagining him? Maybe he wasn't real. Maybe he really was nothing more than rumor. It was the stress. It had to be the stress.

She looked up at Alfred, ready to ask him if Batman was actually there, but didn't want to sound crazy and kept quiet.

"Come, Miss Rider," Alfred said, pulling her gently away from the doors and into the kitchen, where he dug around a cupboard until he pulled out a bag of medical supplies.

Alfred sat her down on one of the tall chairs at the counter. He flipped around her left arm, inspecting the major cuts from the glass window exploding next to her. "Not too bad. I can stop the bleeding. You should be fine." His words offered little comfort.

He rummaged around the bag until he pulled out a small, plastic case.

"Here," he clicked open the case's tiny latches and wrapped his thumb and forefinger around a white pill, setting it on the counter. With a tiny knife from the bag, Alfred cut it in half and placed it in the palm of Aurora's hand, dropping the other half back in the case. She took it dry, not bothering to ask what it was.

At first, there was stinging pain in Aurora's arm where Alfred tended to the more prominent cuts. But as the minutes ticked by, she felt less and less until there was no pain at all. She kept zoning out and her eyes unceasingly tried to close, but she fought the dizziness and fatigue with what little she had left in her.

When Bruce came upstairs, sweaty and damaged, she didn't connect the pieces of the puzzle—couldn't. She was half asleep, holding her head in the hand Alfred hadn't gotten to.

"I'll take care of this," he said in a barely audible voice. "Can you handle the police?" Alfred nodded in response and turned away, touching Aurora gently on her shoulder before taking his leave.

Bruce sat next to her and she just stared up at him.

"Are you alright, Aurora?" he asked in a soft, concerned-parent voice.

Did she look alright to him?

"Where were you?" she inquired. Judging by the massive purple bruise dark enough to see through his white t-shirt, someone got to him before the police showed up. He was lucky it wasn't the same guy that got to her.

Bruce took over Alfred's job and wrapped up Aurora's wounds. He made the bandage tight enough to stop the bleeding, but not so tight that it would cause her more pain.

"I'm a heavy sleeper."

"Clearly," she mumbled.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I put you in danger by bringing you here tonight. They're after me. You were just caught in the middle. I can take you home if you'd like."

Each time Bruce shifted his hand, she winced. She could feel her pulse beneath each bandage, which made her stomach squirm. The black spots and fuzziness in her vision began to fade, but her eyes were irritated by the mess of tears flooding them only minutes ago.

"Maroni wasn't kidding, was he? He's really going to kill me." The weight of that didn't set in until she was sitting there with Bruce, dizzy and tired and bleeding. "I don't think I'm any safer at home than I am here. Not with whoever that was still out there. So no, I don't think you should take me home."

Aurora watched him wince and try to cover it.

"Are you...?" Are you okay? was what she wanted to ask, but the words didn't come.

She took the ice pack that Alfred left sitting on the counter and rested her head against the cold, makeshift pillow. Looking down at her pale skin and borrowed clothes as she readjusted, she discovered blood smeared all over in artistic pools and swirls like she was an easel for some twisted painter.

Bruce released her arm and started on her left foot, setting it on his knee and spreading a cream across the bottom that numbed it. Pressure ached through her heel as he started pulling out the glass with tweezers and Aurora tried not to react. Easier said than done.

He finished her left foot quickly, tears welling in her eyes once again, then switched to start the right, skillfully pulling out the bigger pieces first.

Her mind was blank and body numb as she teetered on the edge of deep, medicine-induced sleep. The girl stared at Bruce's bruise for a long time, mind sluggishly solving the puzzle piece by piece until she slowly retracted her leg from his gentle grasp and sat up despite relentless nausea. It all came together in one confusing heap.

"Bruce," she began, sleepy speech slightly slurred, "I'm going to ask you something and I want you to be completely honest with me." How stupid did he think she was? Aurora paused to keep herself together and in a low voice asked, "Where were you?"

"I told you where I was, Aurora."

"No. You told me what you've been telling everyone else."

He said nothing.

"I just almost died for you. You told me no one could get in here. Being honest with me is the least you could do. The bleeding can wait." She shook her head and stood, holding the chair to keep centered. "How'd you get that bruise? And don't say skiing."

"Aurora, you hit your head. You're on powerful medica-"

"Bruce."

He took a deep breath, then looked at her. No, he didn't look at her. He stared into her without a single emotion on his face. Nothing. Seconds ticked by like minutes before he spoke again, not moving.

It was terrifying.

He was terrifying.

"I think it's in your best interest that you know why this is happening," Bruce began slowly, looking directly in her eyes. Unwavering and cold. "Now that Maroni has targeted you, he won't be stopping." He paused. "I need you to listen very carefully. I was in the Alps, but I wasn't on a ski trip."

She was in a fragile state, hit with so much information at once, and he was acting like she should be taking everything lightly.

"Come with me. I can show you." He offered his hand.

"No," she snapped in a low voice and shook her head, fighting a losing battle against a yawn.

How could she trust him anymore? All this time, he lied to her.

Aurora pressed her lips into a hard line, bent on staying where she stood and not listening to a word he said.

But then he smiled at her. A smile rooted from both his amusement in her disorientation, apparently, and genuine care. Conflicted and tired, she let him take her hand and lead her to wherever it was he planned.

Each step she took was more painful than the next, the little pieces of glass that hadn't been tended to burrowing into her feet. Her eyes were watery, but she swallowed the threat of crying.

 _Not in front of Bruce_ , she told herself, tripping over her own feet and swaying slightly.

By the time they stopped in his study, he had to wrap his arm around Aurora to keep her standing. They stood over the piano together and he played three awkward notes. The bookcase across from them slid open once more, revealing the elevator on the inside. He urged her forward silently.

Once they were in the dark elevator, he reached behind them and pulled a lever, which caused the bookcase to slide shut, and the elevator sealed itself. Bruce's hand slid from her waist to her arm, still offering her support, but not quite so much.

A monotone female voice started, "Identifying. Bruce Wayne. Aurora Rider." Aurora looked around, confused.

"It's a facial recognition program. It can identify anyone in its database." Even though he explained the voice to her, she didn't feel any more comfortable.

The elevator groaned into motion. The suddenness scared her, causing her arm to pull back in surprise. Bruce's hand grabbed hers and he placed it between his palms.

"It's okay," he promised.

"What is this?"

Bruce was silent.

The elevator opened in only a few more seconds. Bruce pulled her out by her hands into a pitch black room. Whirring and beeping could be heard, but there was no flash of a power button or glare of a screen. Then he called out for the lights to turn on, and they did, revealing a vast...

Cave?


	5. Unmasked

"No," she whispered.

It made perfect sense. That was what scared her. She knew where she was, the glowing bat symbol told her that. But it wouldn't sink in that she was actually there.

"I don't understand. I-"

Aurora shook her head and stared at the vast expanse of technology before her.

Bruce and Batman were gone the same amount of time during the past few years. He had plenty of money and connections. How long had it been since Batman first appeared? Years. So, he lied to her for all those years, and didn't even bat an eyelash doing it?

 _No_ , she reminded herself, _he avoided_ everyone _all that time._ Why would he do that to himself? To the people who were there for him?

Her eyes locked on his wound for a long time before she could look directly at him again. She wondered if it hurt as bad as it looked. He acted like it wasn't even there. The thought of all the terrible things that were done to Batman—the guns and fights and enemies—made her throat constrict and heart hurt. Why wouldn't he just tell her? Why wouldn't he trust her? Aurora was numb, her breathing heavy.

Her eyes lifted to his face, expression as stoic as his, eyes just slightly widened in hurt and sadness. She couldn't stop staring at him. It was like looking at an all new man.

All the years she thought he was locked inside the manor, he was really out throwing himself into suicidal situations. And for what? To save Gotham, the city that caught a spark before they were born and burned every day since?

He must have been in so much pain, but Aurora refused to feel bad for him. To feel anything for him. Except that one warm feeling deep in her chest. The one she didn't choose to feel. The one she just couldn't shake off.

The one that was really starting to piss her off.

"Why wouldn't... How did...?"

How could he subject himself to that? How could he do that to himself? Was it punishment? He could have been happy if he would have tried—if he would have grieved and remembered, but lived the life his parents would have wanted him to live. He didn't, though. He was trapped in his own grief.

Bruce didn't try to answer any of her unfinished questions. He didn't try to make excuses or explain himself. He just stood there and watched her take it all in, probably not even close to understanding how much pain she was in.

The girl tried to think who else could have known about Batman aside from Alfred. She couldn't come up with anyone. He was a figure alive only by rumor fueled by Gotham's worst, which made sense, but also took away from any belief she ever had that Batman was real. Of course, she supported the _idea_ of Batman, but something that great could never happen. Not to Gotham.

Aurora swallowed thickly with nerves and childishly rubbed her tired eyes.

The man literally took a bullet for her, and there she was, pushing him out. It was hypocritical, judging him for blocking everyone out of his life, then blocking him out of her own.

Of all the things she could have looked at next, her eyes found his armor lying on the ground, a dent in it from being shot. Aurora stared at it without moving or making a noise. She couldn't even remember taking a breath. So many emotions flooded her mind in one massive whirlwind, none could settle in. They all just raced furiously around her head, tearing her sanity to pieces.

After what seemed like forever, she began walking toward the armor, the shuffling of her feet breaking the room's silence.

She wasn't sure how she was supposed to—how he _expected_ her to—feel, so all her emotion mixed into an overwhelming mass that managed to make her numb to everything. Maybe it was her mind trying to block everything out. Maybe it was the drug she was grateful to Alfred for giving her (with her mind working properly, God knows how she would have reacted).

She knelt in front of the armor, her body tense and shaking, mirroring her mind.

Before her was a mask, but it wasn't really a mask. This was who he was. Bruce Wayne was the mask. Her jaw clenched to keep herself silent. Aurora picked up the cowl and ran her fingers over it, sad and soft.

 _Who is standing behind me? Whose home am I in? Bruce Wayne doesn't exist. No. It isn't Bruce. And it isn't Batman. So who is he?_ What _is he?_

She chucked the cowl across the room as hard as she could.

It skidded across the floor and stopped right under the light that shined down on the biggest computer. Immediately after, she felt tears streaming from her eyes, and realized she was sobbing. It was like that cliche. It was like she was watching herself from above.

She didn't turn to look at Bruce. She couldn't.

"All your life..." she whispered, then screamed, "All your life, Bruce! You lie and hide from the people you love to be a figure in this damned city! You stand up for it and you fight for it, then you take off that god forsaken mask and go against everything Batman is supposed to stand for!"

Aurora knew he didn't care about her two cents. The messy thoughts tumbling like an avalanche from her mind and past her lips wouldn't change a thing. But she didn't care.

"Everyone was here for you. I was here for you!"

 _Was that not enough?_

It didn't make sense to her. Nothing he did made sense to her.

One question burned her mind.

 _Why?_

She threw another part of the armor and held her face in her hands, sobs writhing through her body. She was angry. So angry.

He approached her, so she hit him as hard as she could with her weak, tired arms over and over and hoped to God it left a mark.

"Get away from me," she ordered hysterically.

He took her abuse for a second, then gripped her wrists painfully tight in his hands and held them close to his chest to stop her. Her confusion and sadness took over when she couldn't fight, and she reached out for him, his hands loosening to allow the motion. He was so warm and strong when his arms wrapped around her that at any other point in time, she would have felt home. But nothing could help her now. No matter how much she tried to stop, she just kept on crying, mumbling unintelligible things in desperate search of mental organization and, hell, sanity.

Somewhere deep (very deep) down, she was actually sort of glad he was Batman. That he went out and saved the city that so badly needed saving. And she was glad it was him, too, though she couldn't understand why. What hurt so bad was the lying. The deception and secrets. The way he was just handing his entire life over to ungrateful, unchangeable Gotham. And, selfishly enough, the way her once best friend just cast her aside without a second thought.

Sure, they were really only childhood friends, but their relationship went so much deeper. He was her life growing up. They went to the same school, and after he vanished, everyone went to Aurora for answers. Not that they found any. And their parents were in business together, until, well…

Then he disappeared, but he was everywhere. Every charity benefit (even the ones he didn't show up to—all the girls talked about wonderful Bruce Wayne), the newspapers, GCN, her job. He _was_ Wayne Enterprises, and the damn company never left her sight.

As if that wasn't enough, every time she talked to her mother, Bruce was brought up.

 _How is he?_

 _I don't know._

 _Haven't you heard from him?_

 _No, Mother._

 _Well, he has to at least drop in at Wayne Tower every now and again. Maybe you just always miss him._ Silence. _Not even a letter?_

 _No, Mother._

No matter how much Aurora tried to move on, Bruce never stopped being part of her life.

Bruised and bloody and exhausted, all Aurora wished for was long, deep sleep, and for things to be as simple as they were when she and Bruce were kids.

"Let's go upstairs," he suggested in a cautious, gentle voice, to which she nodded and let him stand her up.

Figuring they may run into Alfred or a detective once they went back upstairs, she struggled to regain some sort of composure and wipe all the night's tears from her face. They kept falling, but she managed to silence herself.

There wasn't one thing she could think to say to him—to the man she used to trust, rely on, and know. But she didn't ever know him. Not really.

Whoever said people can't change was painfully wrong.

She kept quiet while they stepped back into the elevator. For better or worse, Aurora knew her life would never be the same after the night.

Eyes down, arms wrapped around herself, she whispered, "I'm sorry," as if somehow it was all her fault or she could make it better. But she couldn't. Nothing could.

Since most of her weight was on him, Bruce lifted her, cradling her in his arms. Relief in her feet was immediate and made her eyes close. Artificial warmth from a blanket wrapped gently around her. She gripped the soft fabric with one hand, holding it close to her chest.

As they rode up and exited the hidden lift, leaving the study and entering the foyer, she heard two unfamiliar voices and looked toward them, the bright outside light stabbing her eyes. Alfred was leading two detectives toward the door, and when he looked at Bruce and Aurora, it was clear he was shocked to see them back up so soon.

One of the detectives stepped toward them. He was the taller of the two, with auburn hair and a mustache, glasses balancing on the bridge of his nose. She recognized him as Lieutenant James Gordon. The other was Harvey Something-Or-Other. She ran into them a few times while they were snooping around Wayne Enterprises. Something about an accident within Wayne Botanical that the company paid an obscene amount to keep out of the press. Aurora never found out what really happened, but a lot of the heat from upstairs rained down on her afterward.

"Mr. Wayne. It seems you've been busy this evening," Harvey said, gesturing to Aurora. "Too busy to notice that your home was being robbed?"

It was then that she realized she was being carried by shirtless Bruce Wayne, face wet with tears which could have easily passed as sweat, and she looked beyond exhausted.

 _Thank God for the blanket_ , she thought, _or they would have seen the bandages and blood._

How would they get out of this one? Bruce seemed to know the answer.

Bruce put on his playboy mask, the one that Aurora could now see through like a sheet of glass but couldn't have before.

"Gentlemen, I can't help it if my nightly...escapades end up in a few bruises. We both like it a little rough." He chuckled, but they didn't return the feeling. Aurora blushed even though it was just an act and kept her gaze down. That was how scandals spread—talking to the GCPD. "She noticed, though. She was just a little shaken up. Everything's fine. Would either of you like a drink? We've got an amazing scotch I picked up in the Alps."

"Thanks, but no thanks, Mr. Wayne. We're on the job. We were just leaving. Come on, Bullock," Gordon said, looking quite disgusted. The door shut behind them and Bruce let out a deep sigh.

"I'll take Aurora back up to bed. I'm going to stay in her room in case we get more unwelcome guests. You should get some rest, Alfred. You look terrible," Bruce explained as he started heading up the stairs toward the bedrooms.

 _Does that mean he's sleeping with me?_ she thought childishly.

Aurora shifted with nerves while relaxing in security and let him hold her. She was too tired to fight back. Too tired to say or think anything else.

A drug-induced stupor void of sleep stretched the distance between the stairs and the bedroom. There, Bruce laid her across the mattress and Aurora just looked past him.

"I'm sorry. For everything. This was the last thing I wanted to happen by becoming Batman. By coming home," he said, looking away from her. "There are reasons why I never publicly came back to the city. Reasons why I wear the mask. Someone I care about getting hurt is one of them."

"I'm not someone you care about, Bruce. I don't..." She sighed. "You don't even know me."

"I know you," he stated vaguely.

"But I-"

"I'm going to stay with you tonight," he interrupted her, talking slow like she was a child. "I can sleep on the floor if you'd be more comfortable. I promise to answer any and all of your questions in the morning, Aurora."

She was completely spent yet somehow totally aware of everything going on around her. She wanted answers, but she couldn't form a single question.

"Okay," was all she answered with. Then, she just nodded and laid down.

He could have slept wherever he wanted, because she was asleep as soon as she was under the big comforter and as close to relaxed as she could be on her favored big pillow.

She didn't have any dreams that night, save one terrifying nightmare she couldn't wake up from.

In it, Bruce was dressed in his Batman armor, fighting a mass of men dressed in all black, when something pierced right through him—through the pads and the armor and the protection—and killed him. Silent. Quick. And Aurora was frozen in place, unable to move to his aid.

She just watched him die.

The girl jolted awake, sweaty and uncomfortable under the curiously named comforter. Nausea from the painkillers washed through her until she pushed off the blankets and wiped the sheer layer of sweat off her face. She noticed Bruce's figure at the far right side of the bed, silence surrounding him.

Aurora reached over and gently pressed her fingers against his neck to make sure he wasn't dead.

The alarm clock on the nightstand read 2:45, but sunrise felt so far away.


	6. Promises Broken

Bruce pressed his lips into a solemn line. Aurora was looking at him, but not really _looking_. Her eyes were absent, as if the room's darkness seized her gaze. She turned away from him, met by sleep almost immediately. Bruce laid down opposite her, sure to keep his distance. He stared up at the ceiling, knowing sleep would elude him, as it often did.

He thought about how the night would have gone if he took Aurora home like he should have. Maroni would be in police custody, awaiting prosecution. Now that had to wait. The manor probably still would have been broken into, but Aurora would be safe and oblivious to who he really was.

Or would she?

Bruce's hands tangled in his hair and his eyes closed. Didn't she know all along? He gave her the final certainty by taking her to the cave, but she _accused_ him of being Batman.

Aurora was too clever for her own good.

Suddenly, the girl sat up and took a deep breath. He glanced over at her, but didn't react. She wouldn't have wanted to talk to him. So he watched her calm down, get comfortable again, and then quickly fall back asleep.

His mind drifted to the man he fought earlier. He never encountered anyone with such prowess. The way he fought was familiar. He didn't waver or tire, almost as if he had an unlimited amount of stamina. Bruce would look into it further, but it could wait until tomorrow.

He snaked his left hand behind the headboard of the bed where a few batarangs were hidden for emergencies. He closed his eyes as his hand wrapped around one, then opened them again and looked out the window parallel to the bed.

Slowly, as not to stir Aurora, he rose and walked over to the window, looking out at the city. He started at it for a long time, then his eyes fell down at his feet and finally to Aurora. She could never understand why he was doing this. Why he was Batman. She never suffered like he did. She never endured the same pain—the pain that still wracked him. And he would make sure she never had to.

 _I promise you_ , he thought to her.

From there, his eyes shifted to the alarm clock on the nightstand near the bed. It was four in the morning, which meant dawn was just around the corner. He reached for the curtains and pulled them across the window, keeping the quickly approaching sunlight from flooding in and waking Aurora. Looking at her again, he knew she was safe. He wouldn't fail to keep her that way again.

He turned for the door, headed in the direction of his study.

 **#**

Exhausted as she was, Aurora was a light sleeper. She felt the bed shift and then sink more toward her side, and it woke her up. Her eyes took a minute to adjust to the darkness, and she soon realized that Bruce was by the window. She kept quiet to see what he would do. It was clear he was looking at something, but it wasn't something near, rather far off in the city. Aurora took a breath, closing her eyes when he pulled the drapes together, only looking at him again when she heard him walking out of the room.

She knew where he was going. He was leaving to be Batman one more time before the sun peeked over Gotham.

It took her a long time to decide that she was going after him before she took action. Obviously, she knew she shouldn't be getting in his way by playing the role of damsel in distress that always annoyed her, but she needed some sense of closure before he left. It could have been the last time he did, and though she declared there was nothing between them, not even a friendship, she had to make sure he was okay.

Her hair wasn't really messy. Because she slept so heavily, she didn't move much. Her bandage, along with Bruce's slouchy shirt and pants, were stained with blood and clung to her where it dried. And if she would have noticed the red on his expensive sheets, she would have felt bad for ruining them.

"Bruce?" Aurora called in a groggy voice, rounding the corner to the hall glowing with yellow, incandescent light. No answer.

Aurora sighed and leaned against the wall, watching him go into his study. The three notes from the piano echoed down the hall. After a moment's hesitation, she pushed off the wall and went the same route he took. Knowing the notes from the myriad of wasted piano lessons from her mother, she pressed the three in the same order Bruce did and waited until the bookcase moved aside to reveal the elevator. She walked confidently toward it, stepped inside, and hoped it wouldn't set off some sort of alarm because Bruce wasn't with her. Thankfully, it didn't. The machine recognized her and let the door slide shut, then began its depart to the cave. Once she was there, the door slipped out of her way and she stepped out silently.

Aurora crept around and stopped behind a tall, metal shelf, crouching behind it to watch him.

"Freeze right there." Bruce ordered, and for a second, she thought he caught her, but he only got closer to the screen he was in front of. "Run an analysis from the National Criminal Database." He sat back down and rubbed his eyes.

Squinting, she realized what he was looking at so closely. A woman in bed? No. It was _her_ in bed. What was he trying to see? She leaned forward a little more and faltered, grabbing the metallic shelf to steady herself with a soft thud. Aurora hid herself completely in case he looked back, terrified that she gave herself up.

"The man who attacked you tonight is Slade Wilson, one of the most lethal killers in the world."

 _Damn it._

"He was probably hired to come after me, but decided to use you as bait," Bruce said, not taking his eyes off the screen. "You can come out, Aurora."

She exhaled all the tension of trying to stay hidden and stepped out, keeping her eyes trained on him as she did.

 _Slade Wilson? What a horrible name_.

Her jaw clenched at the sight of the masked man on the screen by cause of no particular emotion.

"I'm lucky the serial number is still intact. It'll allow me to find out where he acquired his weapons. Handguns of this caliber are illegal in the U.S., so not only will I be able to track him down, but I can also take out his supplier," Bruce explained. He set the bullet fragment down near the massive computer.

Shamefully, Aurora watched him stand and pick up all the pieces of his armor. She walked over and inspected the bullet herself.

This was the one meant to kill her. This was the one that hurt Bruce.

"You said you would give me answers in the morning," Aurora reminded, eyes glued to the bullet. "It's morning." Satisfied with the tiny chunk of metal much sooner than she thought she anticipated (probably because she was afraid she would throw it across the room), she let it clatter back to the counter. The thought of the bloody bandages crossed her mind and made her look down at herself to discover just how red they became while she was sleeping.

"And I will answer all of your questions, Aurora," Bruce promised, pointing to the chair in front of the giant computer then walking over to an area of the cave with a table and more metal shelves. Aurora didn't plan to move, so she just watched him grab a small box and walk back to her. He led her to the chair, sat her down, and knelt, beginning to uncoil the bloody gauze on her left arm.

"None of these cuts are too deep. That's pretty lucky considering where they are on your body." She didn't feel she needed him to go through all the trouble he was, but it made her feel a little better. Despite the good condition of the injuries, they still hurt every time he touched them or adjusted the gauze. The disinfectant he rubbed on her arms and feet stung at first, then warmed and melted the pain away. Her eyes were on his hands the entire time, watching every move they made. When he finished fixing every single damaged part of her skin, her eyes shifted back to his face.

"Ask away," he told her.

For the first time, Aurora actually thought about what it was that she actually wanted to know. Well, "Are you really Bruce Wayne?" seemed like a good enough start, but she held her tongue and tried to be serious. Questions poured through her mind. Easy to answer questions, like, "Where did you learn how to do everything?" were met with the unanswerable, like, "Why? _Why_ do you do it?" She took a breath, locked eyes with him, and kept herself solid

"What were you doing in the Alps for six years?" was her first question.

Not too tough.

Yet.

"Well, I wasn't on a ski trip," he started. He pulled the chair a few feet from her closer and sat in it. "Six years ago, I was injured while I was doing an investigation of a SWAT officer. I couldn't go to any doctors here with all of my injuries, so I went to a doctor in Switzerland who could operate on the down-low. I was gone as long as I was because of the rehabilitation," he explained, keeping their eyes locked. "I just used the guise of an extended ski trip. What else?"

She blinked at the bluntness of his answer. Six years of rehabilitation?

"Why did you need the surgery? What happened?" she asked, following up her thoughts. "What happened to you that you had to go to another _country_ for it?" Her eyes didn't leave his. Trapped under his gaze, she had to take a few breaths to keep her mind on track. His eyes were dark and full of secrets that she wasn't sure she wanted in on.

Aurora could remember something bad happening to Batman—something terrible—but she couldn't remember what. As soon as Batman left, she lost faith and trust in him. So in Bruce, too. And she forced herself to end her girlish crush so she stopped caring about where he was or what he was doing.

"Well, I'm sure you understand that a man full of bullet holes can't go to a hospital without someone asking questions. This doctor in the Alps is an old friend, and she owed me a favor," Bruce explained. "I understand your confusion, but if I were to waltz into a hospital the same night that Batman got the same injuries... It's just a little suspicious, don't you think?" he asked her.

Listening to him talk, it all made perfect sense, and she felt like an idiot for not realizing right away how dumb it would have been of him to walk right into Gotham General. But how did he get all the way to the other country and not die? That was fantastic. He was fantastic.

As soon as he finished talking, she leaned back in the chair he had her sit in and pulled her knees up to her chest.

"Don't you think it was just a little odd that Bruce Wayne decided to go skiing the same night that Batman was gunned down?" Aurora shot back. The question wasn't _completely_ sarcastic. She had some genuine curiosity underlying in there somewhere.

"Not if you announce it to the press a week later. Just because I was gone doesn't mean people notice," Bruce explained.

"I noticed," she stated, and they exchanged a sad, uncomfortable look. Her eyes moved to the big bruise on his abdomen that peaked out from under his uneven white shirt, and they lingered there for a long moment before Aurora regained focus on his face and what he was saying.

"Don't worry about this. I've had much worse," he said and pulled down the white material. "I know this probably doesn't make sense to you. I know you probably think I'm crazy for doing it, but it isn't about thrill seeking."

"It makes absolutely no sense to me why you would do this. It makes no sense to me why you risk your life and leave behind the people you love, then act like it's no big deal." She shook her head and stood. It gave her a slight head rush, but she blinked hard and it went away.

"I made a promise."

"A promise to who, Bruce?" Aurora inquired, sounding exasperated. To the city? To Alfred? To himself? Not that it mattered who he made his promise to. It wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth his life.

"A promise to my parents," he said sternly, standing from his seat so he could be a little over eye level with her. "The night they died, as I sat on my knees in front of their lifeless bodies, I promised I would create a world where no little boy would lose his parents to some punk with a gun."

She held her breath when he said it and her heart broke. Of course it was his parents. Aurora castigated herself mentally for being so oblivious and naïve. She reached out to him and moved his face with her fingertips to look at her, just as soft as her voice when she said, "And you think this is what they wanted for you?" Gentle, concerned, and cautious was all she could be for him. More than those, though, he needed her honesty. "Bruce, I'm all for you going out there and doing what you need to do. I think it's reckless and dangerous, but it's what you feel you need to do. I just…" There were no words, so she just let her sentence end there. Hand still in place on his face, she struggled to find his gaze that repelled her like a polar opposite.

"I know that they wanted a better Gotham," he started. "You know as well as I do that Batman is the only way to do that. Corruption has run rampant in this city for far too long, and a man like Bruce Wayne isn't the kind of person who should represent the people."

Eventually, his dark gaze fell on her baby blue eyes. He lifted his hand over hers so they overlapped. At first, his contact surprised her. She never really thought of Bruce like that, but she never really thought about Bruce in any specific way. In all the years they were apart, she pushed him from her mind anytime he found his way in. Things never ended well when he was prominent in her life—he always disappeared or did something that wasn't like him that completely threw her off. Like confess he was Batman. And now that she knew that, things were different.

Everything she knew about him became nothing more than possibility. Everything he ever said or did was false. Except for two things. Who he was—Batman—and what he stood for.

His hands were strong and rough, evidence of the battles he constantly pushed through. They were wise, too, as they smoothly slid from her hand on his cheek to the back of her neck. Her chest was tight and her cheeks became flushed with an emotion she didn't understand. One she never experienced with anyone else. His lips pressed softly against hers, and her heart skipped a beat. It took a second to get used to how it felt to kiss him, and she found that it felt _right_. There was nothing to adjust to.

Too soon, he pulled away. Aurora's eyes locked on his, unsure and definite all at once, and she exhaled one shaky breath.

"Bruce?" she whispered. Was this his playboy mask? Was she a just a band-aid for the pain she caused him to relive? Or was that a real kiss? Aurora wasn't sure of anything anymore, but that ambiguity was welcomed. For a girl who liked to know the answer to everything, not knowing felt like a break.

"Yes?"

Their lips were mercilessly mere centimeters apart.

Aurora couldn't stand it.

His grip on her tightened as he brought her in and kissed her again. She felt her eyes fall shut and gave into the kiss completely. It was a good feeling, being close to him. An amazing feeling. He slid his hands down the sides of her body and rested them on her hips, allowing him to eliminate any space between them. Above everything on her mind, she just wanted to be closer to him.

Despite all the fear and confusion and exhaustion brought on by the night, Aurora relaxed and let him take charge. Her chest became heavier with want the longer the kiss continued and, as if out of nowhere, they were engaged in a passionate embrace.

A small, needy sound passed her lips. At first, it embarrassed her, but his contact made her forget it even happened. Her free hand dragged lightly up his covered torso, carefully avoiding his wound, until it was entwined in his hair.

It was weird for her to think that he was the little boy she grew up with. He was the boy whose parents were killed before his very eyes. He was her employer and family friend. He was the man who was going to save Gotham. And there he was, allotting himself someone for his worst enemies to target to get to him. She wasn't as worried about that as she thought she would be, though. Because he would protect her from them. No matter what it took. She kissed him harder.

Bruce lifted her into his arms so her legs wrapped around his waist. He broke the kiss for a moment and touched his forehead to hers, the only sounds that could be heard were the soft whirring of the equipment in the background and the sound of their heavy breathing.

He looked her in the eyes.

"It's a little cold down here, don't you think?

The small smirk on her face could have passed for devious, just as it could have been shy. She nodded and tried to find the breath he took away.

The cave was cold, but she didn't feel it. Bruce was so warm, and there was a fire inside her.

He kissed her. _Bruce Wayne_ kissed _her_.

 _Oh, Mother,_ Aurora smiled to herself _, I dare you to call and ask about this man again. If only you knew..._

Her smile widened just a little and she bit her lip, nodding in agreement with his question. Suddenly, he was heading for the elevator with her still wrapped around him. What if Alfred saw? What if there was someone from the press trying to get shots of the break in? She smiled wider. Who cared?

He put her on the bed in his grandiose bedroom, and she was childish enough to just stare up at him. What exactly was he planning now? Aurora's eyes desperately tried to pull away from his, but she was trapped. Of course she wanted to kiss him again, but she didn't know what was going to happen if she did. Would he treat her any differently tomorrow? Act different around her? The day was so full of chaos that she felt this was all just one great, big release. But this was also Bruce. And he wasn't like that. Was he? Who knows what Switzerland's women can do to a man?

In a burst of confidence, she reached up and pulled him down by the neck of his shirt. Each action was so out of character for both of them, they seemed almost right. Her forehead touched his after another long kiss and her eyes stayed closed.

"Why?" she asked vaguely.

"Why what?" he replied and dragged the tips of his fingers slowly up her unscathed right arm, leaving his forehead pressed against hers.

"Why me, Bruce?" Her eyes opened. "Why now?"

All the time they could have been around each other. All the time they could have at least been friends. And he had to choose now. Was it because she knew his secret and was he afraid she would tell? It was a genuine question that was tough to keep in the front of her mind.

They were so close.

Aurora's eyes opened and lingered on his lips for a long time before flicking up to his eyes. They were much clearer now than they were earlier, and she took that as a good thing. He was relaxing, too. Something Aurora assumed he got to do very rarely.

"I've wanted to be closer to you since the day I returned in Gotham. When I was in Switzerland, I thought of you constantly. Every single day since the day your parents made you leave. When I came back from school, when I found out you worked for Wayne Enterprises, I wanted to be the one to tell you about your promotion. I tried to meet with you, but then..."

 _You were shot_ , she recalled.

"You're one of the only reasons I wanted to come back to Gotham," Bruce continued. "You're worth saving."

Their eyes locked. He kissed her again. Deeply. Passionately.

He broke the kiss momentarily to sit up and pull his shirt off. He tossed it aside and collapsed back down on top of her, kissing her once again, his hands moving slowly up her sides while pulling off her shirt.

At first, Aurora thought she was going crazy and hearing things in the hall, but Bruce kept her attention more than that could. Then he stopped and she exhaled, frustrated and disappointed. What was he doing now?

She suppressed a groan, sighed heavily, and sat up, watching him reach across to the nightstand and pull something out of the nightstand drawer. A radio.

"What's wrong?" she asked, brows pulling together in worry. He wasn't going to leave, was he? He was Bruce Wayne right now, not Batman. "Who is it?" Aurora sat up, eyes just a little wider when she heard the voice describe an armed robber at a bank—heard it describe the robber's mask.

Slade Wilson. It was him. The one who broke in earlier. The one who hurt Bruce.

Even though every fiber of her body said to stand against it, she pressed her lips together to gather herself, then quietly said, "Go." She didn't want him to leave and put himself in front of that man again, especially now that there was something holding them together. But she knew he didn't feel he had a choice, and it would only make it harder on herself to try to keep him from going. "If that's what you need. Go."

"You don't have to try to be strong for me, Aurora. I know it's hard. But it's not what I need. It's what Gotham needs." Bruce slipped off the bed and went to his walk-in closet. He came back out with a folded shirt and a pair of pants. "I'm sure they'll still be too big, but they're better than what you have right now." He handed them to her and went back into the closet.

In the few minutes of Bruce's absence, Aurora redressed herself in his clothes and sat with her feet hanging about a foot from the ground because of his tall bed. Her head pounded from her hangover and she regretted drinking as much wine as she did. Maybe she would have reacted differently to all of this. Her hand held her forehead, the rest of her body tired and achy.

Bruce reappeared, telling her to follow him, and she did just that. They went out of the room and back to his study, where he played the three notes she was becoming accustomed to.

"Now, it's apparent that Sal Maroni hired Deathstroke to kill Bruce Wayne, but he wasn't expecting the return of Batman. I need you to take some evidence I've compiled straight to Harvey Dent, the District Attorney. Don't mention me or Batman. In fact, it'd be better if you didn't let him know your identity at all," he explained as they stepped into the elevator.

"How will I do that? He knows who I am, Bruce."

"Lights," Bruce called when the elevator opened.

The cave felt colder than it did earlier. Aurora wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her eyes tiredly at the harshness of the lights.

He went over to a small screen and punched something in, the lights dimming slightly.

Bruce walked to the supercomputer and pulled a flash drive out from a drawer, plugging it into the small device that was still in his pocket.

"I'm uploading every piece of evidence I've gathered on Salvatore Maroni to a flash drive," he walked to a touch screen and typed in a code, a door holding his armor sliding open in response. He quickly slipped into each piece. "I'm going to get Slade to talk tonight. One way or another." He walked back to the device he left by the computer, pulled out the USB and handed it to Aurora. "All you have to do is give this and this tablet to Harvey Dent. I made sure it's secure. You can trust him."

She took the flash drive and exhaled.

"Be careful. I don't know how I would explain the death of Bruce Wayne _and_ Batman." She smiled a little.

It was strange to see him how he was in that moment; his armor covered every piece of him, but he wasn't wearing the mask, so the face of Bruce Wayne was showing and out of place on the body of Batman. Aurora reached for it and slipped it over his head.

"There," she stated softly.

"I will come back. Tonight, we finish this," he promised. "Tonight, Maroni goes behind bars."

Aurora watched him as he walked to a massive, flying machine. She wished he could have stayed, but he wasn't hers—he was Gotham's.

She put her forearm over her head and squinted her eyes against the swirl of wind caused by the engine. Her hair blew around her head in a mess, whipping her arm and the exposed parts of her face and neck. She watched as the vehicle rose and jetted out of the cave, leaving an uncomfortable silence in its wake.


	7. Hubris

Now that he was gone, she gripped the flash drive with determination, grabbed the small tablet it was plugged into, and turned to go back to the elevator. If she was going to give Harvey Dent the evidence, she wasn't going to lie. She would meet with him face to face and claim a friend gave it to her. But she would have to change first. She couldn't go in wearing men's clothes and hand him a fat piece of evidence and not expect Harvey to get suspicious.

Since she didn't have a car and felt uncomfortable using one of Bruce's, Aurora called from Bruce's landline for a taxi to pick her up and take her home.

The sun was still concealed by the horizon, but the blueish glow in the air told that the sun would soon make its way up. Snow was coming down much harder than it was when she and Bruce were driving home from dinner. Looking back, it felt like that happened days ago.

Work, Maroni, dinner, Deathstroke, Batman… So much happened in a day.

In all the time it took her to recap what they went through, both the good things and the bad, the taxi driver had arrived and gotten her home. She gave him two twenties to pay and let him keep the change, even though the gratuity was included in the thirty-five. Aurora hurried inside, kicked off her high heels that looked absolutely ridiculous with her baggy clothes, and held her feet until they thawed from their icy state.

From there, she went upstairs and hopped in the shower, trying not to look at the to her massive walk-in closet and pulled out something more appropriate for her quickly approaching meeting with Harvey Dent. She pulled out her things and slipped them all on—black leather gloves, black pants and shoes, and a white, long-sleeved shirt concealed by a red pea coat. She tamed her hair quickly with a brush, wiped any darkness left from makeup off her face, then touched it up.

In her own car, she sped to Dent's apartment.

Once there, she knocked four times. She was worried she would wake up his wife, who Aurora assumed was home, or that she would answer. But no one came to the door. There was a good chance Harvey wasn't even there. It was five in the morning. He could have been at the police station, at the same scene as Bruce trying to help however he could, or sleeping like everyone else in the city.

She knocked again, harder, in hope of him being home. This was important and without him, there was a chance that Bruce—that Batman—couldn't get the job done. Aurora would have to swallow the bitter taste she had for the man and help Bruce.

Finally, the door opened. It was Harvey, looking exhausted and confused. She must have woken him up.

"Aurora?" he began, then lowered his voice. "What are you doing here?"

Her hand tightened around the flash drive in her pocket and she gave him a small smile that would have come off as charming to anyone else.

"Harvey," Aurora breathed in relief as a greeting.

She looked left and right, uncomfortable with doing this outside. Not only could someone from the press take it as a bribe or deal, but someone that wanted her or Bruce dead could see it and raise even more hell.

"May I come in?" she asked. "I... We need to talk." Her eyes widened just a little with pleading, and her brows pulled together. The look on his face showed her the messy debate going on in his head. Her feelings were mutual. But this was bigger than both of them. "Please," she added for good measure.

Harvey sighed, repeated the paranoid glance Aurora performed, then stepped aside and gestured for her to enter.

"Not long. My wife's asleep and today's my day off. The last thing I need is her yelling at me for talking to you." He paused as she ducked inside, taking off her gloves and thawing from the wave of heat and the security of being surrounded by walls and shaded windows. "Want some coffee?"

"That would be great. Thank you."

The last thing she needed in her system was caffeine, but her hangover was still making itself known and she was exhausted.

Aurora sat on the edge of his couch, right next to the arm.

"I was talking to a friend," she began, even though he was in the next room over, "and he gave me something to give you. I need you to look at it." He walked in and handed her a cup of coffee, which she took gratefully and held in her hands for warmth. She inhaled the oaky scent of the liquid before taking a sip.

"What is it?" he asked, sitting in the chair across from her.

Aurora set the cup on the coffee table and pulled the flash drive out, holding it out to him between her thumb and forefinger.

"Tell me I can trust you with this, Harvey." Her entire face was serious. The only sound whispering through the halls was a TV playing the news in another room, covering the scene at the bank. It almost distracted her. "Tell me you're not gonna screw me over."

Harvey sighed and took it from her.

"I'll keep it a secret."

"I brought this," she reached into her pocket again, and this time pulled out the small tablet complete with USB port. "No one can hack into it or anything—a friend of mine made sure of that." Aurora took a breath and extended it to him. "I want you to have it."

With that, she stood and walked back to the door, stopping at the threshold.

"I know it's your day off, Harvey," she turned to face him, "but this is really important."

She gave a slight smile and walked back into the cold Gotham air, hearing him shout to his wife that he was going into work.

Where was she supposed to go now? Being alone wasn't favorable, so Aurora decided on going back to Wayne Manor to talk to Alfred.

By the time she got back, it was around six. Instead of going to sleep, eating, or talking to Alfred, she thought it might help her out to go down and explore the cave a little more. In his study, she played the notes, was scanned in the elevator, and descended to the cave.

Even though she was in the cave a few times already, it never ceased to amaze her. There was so much technology, so many things she never even dreamed of. Her hands ran over the metal computers and vehicles. He had hundreds of weapons, but no guns.

"Hm," she breathed thoughtfully.

Her hand wound up on a small, gun shaped device. It was light and seemed harmless, like a child's toy gun. Out of sheer curiosity, she picked it up and pressed a small trigger-like button. Suddenly, a charging sound vibrated through it and a blue light grew at the end facing away from her. Nothing happened at first, then all the lights dimmed just a little and the light fired out of the gun. Instead of putting a hole through something or doing anything like a gun, it knocked over a shelf of even more weapons. Aurora gasped at first, horrified that she ruined something, but everything was in check. Just askew.

It shot out a force. Neat.

Hastily, she put the gun back where she found it and moved to the other side of the room. At that, the ground began to shake and large roaring approached. Aurora didn't have sense enough to go back upstairs before she was caught, so she hurried behind Bruce's mass of computers and waited to see if he was returning (and praying to God he didn't notice what she messed up) or if they were being infiltrated by Deathstroke.

"Aurora?" Bruce called out, stopping on the other side of the shelf.

She held her breath.

"Identify intruder."

 _Crap. He noticed._

"Identifying. Aurora Rider."

"Damn computer…" she grumbled.

"Come out, Aurora," Bruce called out, a smile in his voice.

She did as he said, standing slowly and walking to the end of the shelf.

"I was just…I dropped this," she raised her hand in a ball, pretending she was holding something. "I thought it might be a good idea to look around in case..." Aurora trailed off. There really wasn't an excuse for messing with his stuff.

"It's fine," Bruce stated, chuckling quietly as he peeled off his armor. "I took care of Slade. I trust you got the flash drive to Harvey?"

"Yeah, I got it to him," she mumbled, leaning against a tower of computers. Aurora watched him carefully as he removed the armor. Even though she wanted to know what happened with Deathstroke, she didn't ask. It was probably better that she kept Bruce and Batman two very separate people.

Her eyes fell on the rack she knocked over. She didn't bring that up, either.

"Come on. Alfred doesn't like me down here during the day." He turned and walked next to her, headed toward the elevator. "I want to thank you for being so understanding of all of this. Most people would have called me crazy."

Following him toward the elevator, she smiled. "I never said you're sane. But I never said I am, either, Mr. Wayne."

He smirked in response.

As soon as they were upstairs, Bruce took a deep breath. She smiled, the familiar aroma of breakfast in the air. When she attended school, Sarah would make breakfast each day and Aurora would eat before leaving. She didn't usually eat it now, but Sarah cooked anyway, simply out of habit.

"I think Alfred is making breakfast. Are you interested?" She watched him glance at the clock. "It's seven. We were up all night. You can always go back to sleep if you want. Billionaires get to sleep in."

She smiled at his playboy act. "Whatever you want. Harvey Dent gave me coffee, so I'm awake whether I want to be or not."

"Let's eat. Alfred cooked, and you haven't had anything in your system for a while." He led her toward the kitchen, and as soon as Bruce reached for the door, Alfred came out.

"Bruce! I assume you haven't checked the news. It seems that the Batman has returned in Gotham!" Alfred stopped just short of Bruce, noticing Aurora out of the corner of his eye. "Oh, er, Miss Rider."

"I'll let you two talk," Aurora announced and slipped into the kitchen. She gave Alfred a sideways, apologetic smile as she brushed past them, and didn't even have to lean against the door to hear their conversation.

"I thought that since you returned, you were going to do things differently, not make a bloody sideshow of yourself. You have the whole police force on high alert! And it certainly doesn't help that the man they have in custody was trying to murder Bruce Wayne last night. Any clever man could connect the damned dots!"

Alfred's words were loud.

"They won't, Alfred. As long as I play things safe, no one will find out," Bruce stated.

"Miss Rider has. And if _they_ do?"

"Well, we both know how much you like to say 'I told you so'," Bruce rebutted and pushed through the door, now in the kitchen with Aurora.

It was awkward standing there, listening to Alfred talk to Bruce like that, and Bruce to Alfred. In all the time she had known the man and all the times she visited him while Bruce was "skiing", he never once came off as so parental. Wise, sure. Caring, of course. But never so down-and-dirty parental.

She pressed her lips together and looked at Bruce.

Clearly, Alfred confronted him about this a few times before, and she was completely on board with him. Aurora personally felt like an idiot for not figuring out that Bruce was Batman sooner, so it was surprising that everyone ( _cough_ the GCPD _cough_ ) that was supposed to be keeping the city safe from cunning criminals still hadn't made the guess.

On the table waiting for them were two plates filled with all sorts of breakfast foods.

"I know it's painfully obvious that Alfred doesn't approve of what I do. But he's all that I have. Had," he corrected, looking toward Aurora. "I trust you with this secret, but I don't expect you to support me. I don't expect you to be happy that I go out every night and get shot at."

"I think you're absolutely insane to do what you do, but I know you have to do it. I don't want to treat you any different than I did before, Bruce. And I wish I didn't know, to be honest. Before, we were really nothing more than childhood playmates and a part of the same business. Now I'm just a way to get to you, and something more for you to worry about when you need to be watching out for yourself. And I have all this information. And we're…whatever we are. And I don't think this is right. It doesn't," she sighed, "it doesn't feel right. I grew up thinking you're Bruce Wayne, but you've been Batman all along. I don't think Bruce Wayne even _exists_."

Aurora shook her head and sat on a barstool, quiet for a few seconds.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, looking at the plate of food. "I shouldn't have vented at you like that. You don't need to hear it from two people."

"No. It's good to hear what you think. The whole point of becoming Batman was to become more than just a man. As Bruce Wayne, I can be shot, assassinated, threatened. But if I devoted myself to becoming an idea, then I would become something different entirely. I am the only thing that stands between the people of Gotham and the barrel of a loaded gun. I am the reason that criminals breathe easy when the sun rises. I am fear and justice."

"Hubris is the downfall of history's greatest heroes, Bruce," she said, standing up and looking at him. "And if you're an idea, does that mean I'm just an idea, too? Because fear and justice can't take off a girl's clothes, Bruce. It can't feel," she pointed out and took breath. "Why does it have to be you? Why not anyone else in Gotham? And don't tell me you made a promise." His parents never would have wanted this for him.

"Because no one else can," he explained. "The difference between me and everyone else out there is that I refused to let despair take me in its clutches."

" _Everyone_ else out there? What about me? What about Alfred? If anyone is in the clutches of despair, it's you." She shook her head again and ran her fingers through her hair. "I'm sorry. I'll go. You don't need this. I don't need this. It's dangerous for both of us, and I can't handle the mess it's causing my head. I don't think you realize the effect you have on people, Bruce. On me. What we did today wasn't fair to either of us. And I think I should go."

With that, she walked out of the kitchen, grabbed her coat from a hanger at the door, and wrapped it around herself, ducking her head against the snow and wind. Aurora got in her car and drove back toward home.

What she did—what she said—made absolutely no sense to her. Why she was being so angry toward him, so accusatory and absolutely terrible. He didn't need it—the stress and emotional exhaustion that she carried.

She glanced back in her rearview mirror before heading down the icy road.


	8. Ransom

Aurora sighed heavily as she slid out of her car and ascended the steps to her grandiose front door. She unlocked it, stepped inside, and shivered from the cold-to-warm transition. Her eyes were pooled with tears the entire way home and her head was spinning with all kinds of emotion, so she was drained and a little disoriented.

"Sarah? I'm home," Aurora called, rubbing her tired eyes.

Slowly, she pulled off her gloves, setting them on the table right next to the door, then peeled off her coat and hung it on the coat-hanger. The blinds were closed, the entire house dark. There was no scent of breakfast from Sarah, a phenomenon that she couldn't recall happening before then, and the pillows were out of place on the couch. Someone had to be in the house.

Aurora froze and sucked in a quiet, sharp breath. It was her own fault that she was about to get killed or worse. She left Bruce's without anyone to guard her, any way to protect or watch out for herself, and she didn't call Sarah to make sure things were okay there with all that was happening. She was beyond ignorant.

She swallowed thickly with nerves. Glancing toward the stairs, she knew the only escape she had was hiding in a small, secret room that branched out from her walk-in closet. There was a gun upstairs, too, if she could just get to it.

Without hesitating another second, she hurried up the stairs as casually as she could so she wouldn't tip off whoever was in her house. After making it halfway up the stairs, she broke into a sprint, skipping every other step. She skidded and turned toward her bedroom, fumbling around in the drawers of her nightstand for her gun.

"Damn it," the girl muttered and held the gun tight, despite its lack of bullets, and sat on the floor with her back against the mattress. Maybe she could just scare them away. All they would want was her TV or some vase, hopefully. And those things didn't matter. They could have them.

A mess of heavy, uneven footsteps echoed off the stairs, and a masked head peaked around the corner wielding something. A taser. Her eyes widened and chest tightened in terror.

She pulled her feet up to try to avoid being hit as best she could. Her attempt was in vain as the ends of a taser connected with her shoulder and leg, sending a painful shock through her, overloading her muscles.

Her entire body seized and contracted. She screamed in pain. The gun clattered to the floor. Everything around her went fuzzy. She almost passed out, not from the electric current, but from the ripping pain it shot through every inch of her body. Trying to move was pointless. She was frozen. She couldn't fight against the men putting the black bag over her head.

 **#**

Bruce was silent as she left, not stopping her. He walked to the foyer to look out the window when he heard her car start and watched her drive away. He sighed and pressed his forehead against the window, then turned to find Alfred behind him.

"Do you think that you can trust Miss Rider, sir?" he asked Bruce.

"Yes. She's upset, Alfred, and she has every reason to be. But there's no reason she would give up my secret." Bruce sighed and headed toward the grand staircase to the master bedroom. He quickly undressed and showered, then redressed. He was wearing a navy shirt and gray khakis when he exited his room and began to head back downstairs. He found Alfred in his study straightening up the bookcase as he passed.

"Sir, it's December first. Shall I put up some decorations?" he heard Alfred's voice call.

"Whatever makes you happy, Alfred," Bruce called back to him. "Aurora isn't safe out there by herself. Maroni knows he can use her to get to me." He grabbed a black jacket from the coat rack and pulled it up over his shoulders, slipped into a pair of shoes, and pulled on a gray hat.

"You're going out, sir?" Alfred asked.

"I'm going to keep an eye on her," Bruce explained, taking the keys from the rack near the door.

"In the Lamborghini?"

"I didn't say I was going to be discrete about it."

He walked out the front door, confident that Aurora got a good enough distance away from the manor that Bruce could follow her unnoticed. He got in his car and began to drive down the icy path, the snow falling hard.

Bruce touched the screen on the center console and put out a call to Alfred.

"Yes, sir?" Alfred said as he picked up the line.

"I want you to stay on the phone, Alfred. I'm going to signal you to call Gordon if things go south," Bruce said into the mic.

"Of course, sir." The line cut off and Bruce pushed harder on the accelerator.

He was getting an increasingly bad feeling. He shouldn't have allowed Aurora to go so easily.

 **#**

"So, the boss told us to wait here for the girl, right? We've been here for hours and she still ain't shown up," a man sitting on the couch wearing a mask said to another masked man, who was across the house in the kitchen.

"She'll be back. We just gotta be patient," he called. "When she shows up, we jump her. The boss wants to hold her for ransom against Wayne, but he doesn't want people to know who he is, so we're doing the dirty work, and we're filming this little video," he explained, gesturing to the camera the two men set up on a tripod when they first arrived.

"And we give that video to the press?"

"Bingo. And get this, we're gonna get away with it because it's mornin'! Everyone knows the Bat doesn't come out during the day."

"I thought the Bat was gone," the man on the couch replied.

"Don't you watch the news, dumb ass? They're sayin' that the guy the boss hired had a run in with the Bat."

"Huh. Didn't hear that. Oh, hey, she's back!" the man on the couch said, looking out the window.

"Hide!"

The two men slipped into the shadows as Aurora entered the house. They knew she posed no threat. They already had her maid tied up in a coat closet near the front door. They followed Aurora up the stairs quietly, making sure they didn't give themselves away.

And then she started running, knowing that something was out of place. The two thugs picked up their pace, but stopped dead in their tracks when they heard the clicking of a gun. The brains of the operation looked to the other man, then held up a taser and smirked. The man with the taser made his way to the door until he was kneeling just outside its frame. He peeked through a gap in the side of the open door and saw Aurora kneeling next to a bed with her gun, shaking as she fiddled with it. He quickly poked his head into the room and pointed his taser at her. And then he fired.

It made a loud clicking sound as it hit her in the shoulder and leg, shooting her body full of enough electricity to take down a full grown man, let alone a dainty little girl. The two men made their way to Aurora, slipped a black bag over her head, and carried her back down the stairs, dropping her on a chair in front of the tripod. One of the men took her wrists and handcuffed each of them to the back.

A deep chuckling could be heard from behind the camera, and the man who was sitting on the couch earlier said, "Annnd action!"

"We have your little girlfriend, Mr. Wayne. If you want to see her alive tomorrow, you'll start considering doing business with our benefactor," the man standing near Aurora said to the camera.

"Benefactor? What the hell does that mean?" the man behind the camera asked.

"You dumb ass. It means boss! Shut up and turn that light on." A bright light flooded the room, and the man pulled the bag off of Aurora's head. "As you can see, she's still very much alive, but if you deviate from our instructions..." The man reached to his belt and pulled a large knife from a leather sheathe, and then bent down to hold the knife to Aurora's neck, the blade ice cold. "I think you get the picture." The man chuckled and nodded at the cameraman, then the lights shut off.

"Aaaaand cut!" the cameraman shouted. "Man, I shoulda listened to my ma and ran away to Hollywood."

"Will you shut up? That maid lady is still in the closet. Make sure she's comfortable." He chuckled darkly. "And how about you, Miss Rider? Are you comfortable?"

Clearly disoriented, she glared and spat on him. He growled with anger, his hand landing harshly against her cheek.

"Hey! Hands off the money! Boss said not to touch her," the cameraman shouted.

 **#**

Bruce's car skidded to a stop in front of Aurora's house. He got out and put it in park in one motion, walking for her door. He tried the handle, finding it was unlocked, to his surprise.

What he saw through the dark room made him stop in his tracks. Aurora handcuffed to a chair, and two masked men, one at a closet near him, the other hovering Aurora closely. She spat on the man closest to him, and he struck her in turn, causing her to fall over in the chair. Bruce pulled his hat over his face, tearing small holes in it so he could see as he did.

"I don't care what the boss said, I'm gonna waste this bitch!" the other man shouted, pulling his knife back out of the sheathe. He held it back and moved to kill her. Everything moved in slow motion.

Bruce leaped through the air and tackled the man to the ground, causing his knife to go skidding across the floor.

"What the hell?" the masked man shouted, alerting the other of his presence. Bruce was surrounded by the two of them as he raised to his feet and kicked the knife across the room, out of reach of either thug.

"Hey, pretty boy. Why don't you take off the hat'a yours and show us your face?" the bigger but clearly dumber of the two ordered.

Bruce glanced to Aurora, who seemed disoriented. His eyes shot back up to the two men, full of anger.

The other intruder chimed in with, "Ya know, I bet the boss would treat us pretty well if we hand delivered this guy to him personally, since he was interrupting his business and all."

"We should prob'ly smash him up a little though, right? We don't want him to get antsy in the back of the van," the big one suggested, cracking his knuckles.

They both chuckled and slowly closed in on Bruce, who clenched his fists and ducked, sweeping out one of the smaller thug's legs from beneath him, causing him to crash to the floor. Bruce quickly shot back up and dodged a punch from the other man, kneeing him in the stomach. The man dropped down to all fours, clutching his side, groaning in pain. Bruce followed up by kicking him in the jaw, knocking him unconscious.

The other finally got back up to find his partner out cold. Bruce smirked and gestured for the masked man to "bring it on". He charged Bruce head first like a wild boar, attempting to tackle him to the ground. Bruce, being much lighter without all of his armor and gadgets, jumped into the air and flipped over the head of the man, kicking him in the back as he landed. The masked man must've been seeing red, because he charged Bruce once again, recklessly.

Amateur.

Bruce ran right back at him, and when they were just a few inches apart he slid between the man's legs and spun on his back, once again sweeping the thug's legs out from under him. Bruce quickly took one of the man's arms and put it over his knee, bending it out of place and popping his shoulder out of its socket. The man screamed in pain and Bruce silenced him with an elbow to the face.

Bruce ran over to Aurora, who was still on the floor, handcuffed to the chair. He pulled a bobby-pin out of her still-up hair and twisted it around the cuffs until they clicked, freeing her, then lifted dazed Aurora into his arms.

"Aurora, can you hear me?" he asked, checking her eyes for any sort of activity.

"Mm..." she mumbled. It got her point across. She wasn't dead.

Her entire body was shaking just slightly, and the cause on her once flawless skin. Two dark marks, one on her arm and another burned through the side of her pants to her leg. From a taser, probably.

"I'm okay," the girl feebly reassured him.

Good thing Bruce had half a mind to follow her, or she'd be dead.

"If there is anything that you are, it's not okay," he told her.

He walked to the camera sitting in the middle of the floor and ejected the small tape, stowing it away in his pocket. He went back over to Aurora and began to carry her to the door when he heard a muffled shouting coming from the closet. He laid her down on the floor and opened the door to find a woman tied and blindfolded, only her fair brown hair and pale skin visible to him.

It was Sarah.

Bruce quickly untied her and helped her up. She was in much better condition than Aurora, but she was still shocked by what happened. Bruce knelt down and picked Aurora back up.

"I'm going to take both of you to Wayne Manor," he explained, directing his words to Sarah more than Aurora, whose eyes kept falling shut, then opening. "You can stay there as long as you like. I can come back here with Alfred to collect your things."

He carried Aurora back out to his car, Sarah following close behind them. He laid her across the back seat, letting Sarah get in next to her. Bruce got in the car and sped away from the scene, heading back in the direction of Wayne Manor, and dialed Alfred on the car's phone.

"Master Bruce, I trust everything went alright?" Alfred asked.

"I have Aurora with me, as well as Sarah. You remember her, right?"

"Oh, yes, sir. Of course."

"Put a call out to Gordon. Tell him there are some thugs in Aurora's home who need to be taken care of," Bruce ordered, accelerating as he turned onto the road back to Wayne Manor. He looked back at Aurora, who still looked dazed and twitched every few minutes. "And prepare a room with medical supplies."

By the time they returned it was nearing eight-thirty in the morning. Bruce carried Aurora inside, Sarah leading the way up the steps. Once in the foyer, they were greeted by Alfred.

"I called Lieutenant Gordon as you instructed, Master Bruce, and there is a bed waiting upstairs for the both of them," Bruce nodded in thanks. Sarah stayed behind with Alfred as Bruce carried Aurora up the grand staircase to the guest bedroom, where the window was fixed, the floor cleaned, and the soft sheets crisp. He laid her down across the bed and took her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips.

"You're safe here. I'm going to have Lucius Fox come by later today and up the security systems around here," Bruce reminded the tiny girl, still gently holding her hand.

"Okay," she smiled a little at the mention Lucius, and he wondered how well she got to know the man in Bruce's absence.

Like the rest of her body, the hand he held was still shaking and probably extremely sensitive. The taser must've been high powered. He could tell she was focusing on him as much as she could, but he was losing her.

"I'm okay," Aurora urged.

"You don't have to be strong for me, Aurora," Bruce explained. He reached for a small remote on the nightstand and clicked a button at the top, causing the curtains on the adjacent side of the room to close. The only light remaining came from the small, decorative lamp on the nightstand.

"Someone has to be strong for you," she whispered matter-of-factly in a soft, sleepy slur.

He smiled at her comment. She cared about him, which was more than could be said for most people in Gotham. They didn't know him. Not the real him. But he didn't care. He only cared what Aurora thought of him. He remained at her side, holding her hand, determined to keep her safe from any harm.

"I won't let anyone hurt you again. I promise," he told her. His fingers went to her radial pulse, checking for any signs of arrhythmia. Her heart rate was average—just a bit faster than normal.

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

His face darkened sadly, and he lowered her hand so it was still in his but rested on his knee. It hurt to hear her say that. She didn't believe in him—didn't believe that he could protect her. His lips pressed into a hard line and he sighed. At least she wouldn't be mad at him anymore.

Women.

"I'm going to give you something for your elevated heart rate," he told her, trying to take care of everything before she gave into the sleep she was battling and the tension that wouldn't leave her muscles. "It should help you relax and get rid of your tremors, as well as any pain," he told her. He reached to the nightstand and grabbed a small needle, and then an even smaller bottle. "This drug is called Fentanyl. It'll make you drowsy, but it's a better painkiller than Morphine," he explained as he filled the tiny syringe.

He held her arm in his hand, searching for a vein with his fingertips. He found it, despite the lack of light, and she tried to pull away, but the attempt was weak and only made her shakier.

"Tiny pinch," Bruce warned as he poked her with the needle and injected the medicine. She made a small noise and closed her eyes tightly, then pulled her arm back as soon as he released it, clearly not a fan of needles.

It would only take a few seconds to kick in: Bruce gave her a powerful dose. "You can sleep if you feel tired. I'll be here to keep an eye on things." He pressed his lips to her hand and returned it to her side, looking her right in the eyes. She went through hell the past eighteen hours. Some rest would do her good.

"I'm sorry," she told him, which he didn't understand because she had nothing to apologize for.

"Don't apologize to me, Aurora."

"Stay with me," the girl mumbled, searching for his hand.

He could feel her slipping out of consciousness when her fingers wrapped around his once more. Her grip was loosening and her eyes were growing darker.

Bruce nodded. "Of course."

He allowed Aurora to relax, lying down beside her and holding her hand on his chest. He began to feel the effects of his surprise fight and darkness swallowed him whole, consuming him into sleep.

He awoke what must've been a few hours later. There was no way to tell because the only light in the room was coming from a lamp. He looked down at Aurora, who was still sleeping soundly, her face much more relaxed.

Just in case, he pressed his fingers against her neck in search of a pulse.

He breathed out a sigh of relief and rolled on his side to check his alarm clock on the night stand.

It was nearing four o'clock. His stomach roared with hunger. He turned his head and looked back at Aurora. She made a soft whimpering noise and her hand twitched on the bed, but he didn't move to hold it. He just watched her.

This was the Aurora he once knew. The sweet, loving little girl he grew up with until she was taken from him the same night everything else was, too. And as far deep as she was with him now, all of that was going to be ruined.

"I'm sorry."


	9. Belief in Bruce

Bruce turned to face her and scratched the back of his head. He stood from the bed and stretched his sore shoulders as he walked over to his dresser and selected a pair of jeans. He slipped into them, replacing the khakis. He looked back at the bed to see Aurora still sound asleep. He approached the bed slowly, his eyes still on her. He bent down and kissed her forehead softly, attempting to pull her out of sleep.

"Aurora? Can you hear me?" Bruce asked, placing his hand gently on her shoulder. "You need to get some food in your system in order for the drugs to continue working properly," he explained, searching for any sign of consciousness.

He pulled back the collar of her shirt to reveal the wound caused by the barbs of the taser. There would be a small scar there. Small, but not invisible. An extreme sense of guilt washed over him. His finger brushed over the burn and she shivered, her eyes opening and blinking up at him. How could he allow something so beautiful and so pure to be scarred? She did nothing but care for him, and he couldn't protect her. He was responsible for everything that happened to her. He put her in danger by returning to Gotham. It was his fault.

"Bruce?" she mumbled.

"It's okay. I'm right here," he told her, his voice soft and quiet. His hand went to her face, where he caressed her cheek softly. "I'm going to have Alfred make you something to eat, okay?" he asked, giving her a small smile. He couldn't shake the feeling of responsibility, and he had to admit that he wasn't trying to. He was hoping that Maroni would be arrested today, meaning Aurora would be safe. "I'm going to call Lucius Fox to come in and fix the security in the manor so you know you're safe here."

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that even with Maroni behind bars and even with the security updated, Aurora still wouldn't be untouchable. If anyone discovered he was Batman, she would be at risk. Alfred was prepared to be targeted by Batman's enemies, but Aurora... He couldn't let her be threatened.

Bruce took a deep breath and looked Aurora in her eyes. They were tired, but still so hypnotically beautiful.

"Listen, Aurora. While you're still awake. I'm sorry that all this has happened to you. I realize that it's entirely my fault." He paused. She was looking silently up at him, face completely innocent. He trudged on. "You were right to leave. You were right that we shouldn't be together. So after all of this is over and Maroni is behind bars, you and I aren't going to be together." Another pause. "In any sense of the word."

He hated every word that came out of his mouth, as if each one was a drop of poison sizzling on his tongue, spilling over his lips. This was the exact opposite of what he wanted.

He kept his eyes on Aurora, waiting for her response. All he did was break his promises, and they'd only been talking for a few days. They barely knew each other, yet managed to know everything about each other. That wouldn't last much longer.

#

She just stared at him for a long time, unable to think or react to what he said. Everything was still so on edge but numb at the same time. If her mind wasn't so dull, it would have been reeling. She could thank the drug for that.

"But I..." Aurora sat up slowly, clenching her jaw at the soreness and weakness throughout her body. "You said you wouldn't do this." Tears were pulling at her voice, making it raise an octave. "You said..." She was never like this. She was strong and smart and clever. He made her act the way she was. She felt aggressive and upset, but sedately, so she couldn't really comprehend it or act upon it how she should have. How she wanted. Her breathing increased speed. "You lied to me. You _lied_ , Bruce. You said you've always felt this way for me, then you did those things, and I..."

It was hard to breathe. It was impossible to form a solid thought. There was so much she wanted to scream at him, but she couldn't. Her breathing sped up more.

"Aurora, listen to me. You need to calm down. If you keep this up, you're going to start hyperventilating. I know what I said, and I didn't lie. I do feel that way about you, but it's too dangerous to be around me." She was staring at him, her eyes full of confusion and anger. "It's already dangerous enough for you to be around me as Bruce Wayne. Maroni doesn't even know that I'm Batman. Imagine if people knew this about me. You would be targeted constantly. I wouldn't be able to handle it if something happened to you as a result of my actions," he stopped, searching her eyes.

She didn't know what he expected her to say. After what both of them did together and after the things that Bruce told her... There wasn't any way to make this less painful.

Her hand itched to hit him, but she held herself back.

"So you thought it would be better to hurt me yourself than to let someone else do it?"

He was right, she was going to hyperventilate. But there was no stopping it now. How could he be arrogant enough to act like this? How could he tell her to calm down?

"I don't think you get it, Bruce. The only danger I'm put in by being with you is what you dish out. Maroni already knew I was significant to you just because of who I am at Wayne Enterprises. He would have targeted me whether or not we went to dinner last night. And now that he knows this, you think he's going to stop because we 'aren't together in any sense of the word?'"

Last night felt like days ago. Her entire body was shaking and her chest was tight. She kept on. "I'm fine. I'll be fine. I'm not a little girl anymore, Bruce. I can protect myself. I should have known this was going to happen. I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at myself for being so god damn naïve." She paused to catch her breath, but couldn't. "Maybe you should have just let me go home by myself," Aurora exhaled, gripped the bed tight and tried to take in a breath.

She had to breathe by herself—she couldn't let him help her. She didn't want him to touch her. And if he did, she would deliver a severe blow somewhere he would not like.

"I'm just thinking about your safety, Aurora," he replied. "If I hadn't followed you home, you'd be in a dumpster right now," he added.

 _The Gotham River_ , she corrected mentally. And she knew that. But he hurt her, so now she was going to hurt him.

He tried to make eye contact with her, but she wouldn't let him.

"Look at me, Aurora. I would love nothing more than to be with you, but I have to consider your own safety above everything else."

"If you considered my safety at all, you wouldn't throw me to the wolves like this. You would keep your word. You wouldn't lie to me." Aurora shook her head, gripped the blanket tighter, and tried to get a normal airflow.

It was hard, and nothing she did worked, so her breathing became heavier, but less air got in.

Her body ached and her lungs felt like they might burst. She refused to make eye contact with him and listen to more of his lies. He lied to everyone. All the people in Gotham he tried to help, everyone who worked for him, and even her. Her skin had a cold, sick feeling: anything that touched her made her shiver uncomfortably.

"I am keeping my word. I'm going to keep you safe. I promise," he replied.

"Stop lying," she whispered, since it was as loud as she could manage to get. His promises were beginning to mean little to her.

"Tell me then, Aurora. What's your solution?" he asked her, a hint of condescension in his voice.

 _I don't have one_ , she thought, _but anything is better than this_.

Why couldn't he just see that this would hurt her more than anything else? He was being sarcastic now, which only made it worse—only made her want to hit him again.

"You just need to understand that I'm doing this for you. Remember what I said? The thought of you suffering in Gotham while the city burns to the ground is what brought me back," he explained. "You aren't going to suffer because of my actions."

"I _am_ suffering. Is this what you call safe?" Her hands squeezed the sheets tighter, and she made a slight choking noise. "I can't breathe," Aurora told him in a barely audible voice.

Panic washed through her and she started to take faster breaths. She wanted anything but for him to touch her and help her any more than he "already did", but she couldn't get any air in, and the drugs wouldn't let her body fix itself.

"Listen to me. You need to calm down," he explained, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. Aurora shuddered. "Damn," he muttered. "Aurora. You need to breathe, okay?" He placed his hands on her shoulders and stared into her eyes. "Breathe. Deep breaths. You can do it." The edges of her eyes were going dark, and there was immense pressure in her head. "On three, take a deep breath for me. One...two...three," he counted, and she did her best to do what he said.

Aurora coughed and choked but started to relax. He kept counting and she kept taking slow breaths. Her hands loosened from the bed and shook just a little. There was so much in her system, so much swirling in her mind, that she let her head hang in front of her while she recomposed herself. She didn't look up at him or say anything.

They just sat there in silence.

When his hand slipped over hers, she pulled away about a centimeter or so, and then stopped herself. Aurora nearly gave herself a heart attack to keep him from disappearing again, so it made no sense to stop him from touching her.

"I meant every word I told you, Aurora."

Every word? It didn't seem like it. He could play the part of trustworthy billionaire to anyone he wanted. Just not to her.

"Prove it, then," she whispered after a long pause. "Make me believe in you. Make me believe in Bruce Wayne. I don't need you to convince me to believe in Batman."


	10. Little Bandaids

She wouldn't stop shaking. Bruce shifted so he was at her left on the bed, and then pulled her in close with his right arm, which she didn't fight. They sat there in silence, both not looking at each other while Bruce thought. The situation was delicate, so he had to choose his words wisely.

It was funny how going out and fighting for Gotham was instinctive to him, but when it came to Aurora, he was lost.

His thumb moved absently across the skin on her shoulder. He gripped the collar of her shirt and pulled it back to look at the small burn on her collarbone. His lips pressed into a solemn line.

"I can't stop being Batman. Gotham City needs a hero with a face. Someone the people can recognize. They need-" Bruce stopped himself. He remembered that he wasn't earning the trust of the people, he was earning the trust of Aurora. The trust of the person that he, daresay, loved.

There she was, only inches away from him—his entire life she was within his reach—and he was just realizing his intense feelings for her.

His right hand slid down her arm and closed around her hand lightly. He was inching closer to her, and with every inch he was growing more and more...nervous? He was never nervous.

Bruce looked to her lips, which were just as inviting as they were when he first laid eyes on them when he returned to Gotham. He weighed the chances of her hitting him for what he was about to do, but he was too close to turn back.

His lips touched hers softly. A kiss different than their first.

He wanted to smile, but he didn't. Instead, he simply touched his forehead to hers and pushed Aurora's beautiful golden hair out of her face. He closed his eyes. It had been so long since the storm in his head settled.

If there was one moment he could make last forever, it would be this one.

"I was hoping you wouldn't hit me," he told her, his eyes remaining closed.

"I was thinking about it," she whispered, and Bruce felt her tiny smile against his lips.

He opened his eyes and they met with hers. She looked radiant in the ambient light of the room. Almost glowing.

He ached to feel her lips against his, always warm and soft, inviting. But now wasn't the time for that.

"Do you think you can walk?"

#

 _I will never be able to trust you again_ , she thought with her head still hanging. She couldn't recall ever feeling so tired. A myriad of terrible things happened in the past twenty-four hours. They all terrified her, but she didn't blame Bruce for any of it. Not really. In no way was it directly his fault, rather an aftermath of the good things he did for Gotham.

The room was still dark, but when his face was so close to hers, it was impossible not to see.

The kiss took away what little breath she had. What did he think he was doing?

Her initial instinct was to raise her right hand and slap him hard, putting him back in his place, but as soon as it was in the air, it stopped and floated to her side like a feather. Her hands gripped the sheet and she let her eyes fall shut until he was finished kissing her. Feeling their lips mingle made her heart melt. Nothing was ever as gentle as that kiss. Soft, caring…

But it wasn't enough. He really had to show her somehow.

I love you, but we can't be together? He was certainly off to the right start.

"If I could have walked, I certainly can't now." She took a final, needed deep breath and sat back from him. It was part of the effect he had on people. Making them feel idiotic or brilliant (however he chose), causing them to blush, taking away their breath, leaving them awestruck, and making them fall in love. She wanted nothing more than to kiss him again. Hard and long or soft and sweet—whatever he wanted from her. But there was still that lack of trust and hatred plaguing the deep corners of her heart and mind.

"That's fine. You don't have anywhere you need to be. Gotham thinks you and I are in the Bahamas," he explained.

The _Bahamas_? Two things could have happened when he told her that: one, any credibility she had at Wayne Enterprises disappeared, or two, she just gained unfathomable credibility at Wayne Enterprises. What exactly did everyone think they were doing in the Bahamas? She chewed on the inside of her lip. The tabloids would tell her the answer soon enough. She made a face at him, surprise and confusion and anger.

"It's just a precaution, Aurora. On the bright side, you won't be targeted until I have Maroni behind bars. I have guaranteed your safety." He tried to lighten her mood and gave her a soft smile. He lifted her hand up to his lips and brushed his lips across it, then kissed it. The feeling made her breath catch and eyes close, and she felt her heart skip a beat.

He clearly wasn't going to let her choose how she felt about him.

"Tell me what I can do for you." His voice was genuine, caring and concerned.

 _I want you to make up your damn mind_ , she muttered internally, his emotional mercurialness leaving her with whiplash every five seconds.

Aurora pulled her feet up. Maybe that wasn't a good answer at that moment.

"What do you want to do?" she asked, looked over at him, and waited for an answer. "Bruce, you…you saved my life, like, three times. There's not much more you _can_ do for me."

Sure, there were plenty of negative aspects to the things he had done, but she was warming up to him again already. It was hard not to.

He didn't say anything about saving her life. He just moved right on from the statement. He saw Batman as being a duty and job, sadly enough, and wouldn't take her gratitude. He was Gotham's savior when no one else would be, and he was her savior, too.

"I want to earn you. I want to make up for the lies I've told you."

"There is no way to make up for lies," Aurora explained, "but to wait and move on from them. Focus on the better things. All you can do besides that is cover them up with little bandaids."

He reached for her foot, which made her flinch at first, but then he started to massage it, and she relaxed. The act was intimate, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it, but she let him do it anyway. Her wounds, including her arms and feet, were already healing, the shard of glass that once plagued them tiny enough that the cuts could mend easily.

"Here's the bad news about this Bahamas situation," he continued, ignoring her statement about lies, the massage a clear distraction. "You have to remain in the manor until we 'return'," he explained, "and so will I. Well, during the day, in my case. Which means that we'll have quite a bit of time to kill. It's really not as bad as it sounds, though. It should only take a few days."

She didn't see staying at the manor as bad, but she didn't see it as great, either. Cooped up with Bruce as much as she'd been yelling at him and taking out her myriad of emotions on him wasn't such a good idea.

Her heart sank a little. Would he still go out and fight? Of course he would. And she'd be alone.

Her own laughter snapped her out of her reverie. He was tickling the bottom of her foot—very annoyingly out of character. Aurora gasped pulled away from him, but his grip was tight, so she didn't get far. She just bit her lip and tried to keep from laughing. She felt like she was ten years old again.

"I really should still go to work," the girl pointed out, giggling.

"I suppose you're right," he told her, chuckling and moving his hand away from her so she could focus, but she still remained tense in case he decided to strike again. He continued massaging her foot like nothing happened.

"I am right," Aurora emphasized.

"I want you to try to relax. I have everything under control. You can work from here," he explained. "It's still too dangerous to go out. Obviously, Maroni's goons won't hesitate to attack you, even during the day," she didn't know why he said 'even'. He knew why they wouldn't dare go out at night. Why they had no choice but to do their 'business' in broad daylight. "I can have Alfred run by Wayne Tower to pick up whatever you need. Just ask. Of course, I have no idea why you'd be working in the Bahamas," he added.

"I do have to run a business for you, Mr. Wayne. Good luck coming back from whatever those boys are doing now. You'd have crashed and burned long ago if I wasn't there every day."

"You're quite confident of that, aren't you?" he asked.

Bruce smiled at her, and she blushed lightly.

Most of the men on the board were more concerned with lining their own pockets than the prosperity of the company. Alfred spilled some company secrets and told her the only reason she hadn't reached the position of CEO was because the board wouldn't vote in her favor. Something about keeping the board's non-official title as a "no girls allowed" club. According to Alfred, at least.

"I'll make sure you have authority in your position from here. No one will so much as breathe without you knowing about it. Besides, we can trust Fox to keep an eye on things," he told her.

"I know he's capable, but I try to earn my way to the things I'm given and the way I'm treated, Bruce. I don't need you or anyone else to do it for me."

"Just think of this as a short vacation."

Surely this wasn't his idea of a vacation. The man was a billionaire.

"In a house. In Gotham. In the winter. Wonderful vacation destination." Aurora smiled sarcastically, then tried to relax more. The drugs still had their effects working, and she had yet to recover from the taser. The two spots it touched felt hypersensitive and hot. His hands on her foot helped. The relaxation they brought wasn't significant, but it was enough. "For me, taking a vacation is unheard of, anyway. I've worked every day since you left."

"I'm sure it isn't the luxury tropical getaway you deserve, but unfortunately, it's the best we can do," he explained apologetically. "A couple days off won't kill you. You'll have plenty of time to get angry at me for whatever," he smiled, so she knew he was joking. He leaned down and gently pressed his lips to the top of her foot and returned it to its place on the bed.

"I think I've gotten plenty angry at you in the past twenty-four hours," _and for good cause_ , "so, I'll try not to find reasons to keep it up, if you try not to give me reasons. But I'll have to find something to keep myself occupied."

She noticed him moving closer, and wasn't sure he even realized he was. He leaned close to her, and suddenly, his lips were on hers again. Familiar desire crept up her chest and her eyes fell shut. He had that soft and caring touch again, but it began to grow and grow to something deeper than desire. Need and desperation. It was a beautiful feeling that she realized she always wanted to have. Feeling Bruce's lips against her made her feel happy and calm. He knew how to make her relax. Aurora made a soft noise and let him kiss her just a moment longer before ending it.

She didn't know how she felt about him anymore. She loved him, but he was her employer and childhood friend who lied to her throughout her entire life. And the fact that he was Batman was certainly alluring, but terrifying and nerve-wracking, too.

The girl stood up, holding his shoulder to regain her balance and strength. It was harder than she thought. It felt like her legs weren't even there, and her sense of balance was gone.

"You should get ahold of Lucius."

"You should really be taking things easy," he cautioned her, but Aurora ignored him and started walking toward the door. He held her to keep her balanced. "If you feel like you need to sit down, just tell me."

If Bruce didn't stand with her, she would have fallen. But she would never admit that. Everything felt weird. Her skin tingled with sensitivity, while her mind felt dull.

"I'm fine," she insisted, moving forward as he fiddled with his phone.

He brought the phone to his ear and listened for the ringing. He cleared his throat as Lucius answered.

"Lucius, my man! How's it going?" he started. The voice he answered with made her stumble over herself and stare at him until she realized what he was doing. It was very loud and very drunk. "Oh, yeah, man. The Bahamas are great! You'll have to tag along next time…Well, I'm calling because Miss Queen Bee over here wants a status report every now and then, good?…Good. So just, ya know, keep an eye on stuff…Great. Thanks, brother. Bartender, how about another for my lady and I over here?" he called out, moving the phone away from his face.

He ended the call and his face returned back to its normal, stoic ways. "Everything's fine." He told Aurora. "You need to get something to eat. I'll have Alfred make something for lunch. We can move to the living room and start a fire if you want," he added.

Aurora made a face at his offer of food, and then nodded in agreement with sitting by the fire. When she wasn't working, she was home reading by the fire with tea and a blanket.

"You need to get something in your system, whether you're hungry or not," he told her. "If you want the medicine to keep working, that is."

"I don't like how it makes me feel," she argued, knowing there would be no winning with Bruce. "Can I finish asking you questions when we get there? We were a little...interrupted last time."

"Of course you can. Let's get you comfortable first."

At the front of the foyer near the entrance was the door to his study, and closer to the grand staircase was another door that led to the living room. It was larger made of solid oak intricate carvings. He pushed the door open and walked her into the room.

It was dark until a light switch clicked quietly, which caused the chandelier at the ceiling of the room to light up, dispersing the shadows and illuminating the contents of the room. Near the meticulously designed fireplace sat an expensive, floral fabric couch and two matching armchairs, all the deep red color of mahogany. They sat atop a Persian rug that rested on the hardwood floor, also matching the color of the furniture. On the opposite end of the room, a tall bookcase filled with books of every subject stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Dividing the bookcase in half was a large window, which almost reached the ceiling. The foot and a half of wall above the window continued the shelf, where more books gathered dust. The window allowed you to look out onto the grounds which were already snow laden after one blizzard, the view directed at the frozen pond Bruce and his parents would take Aurora ice skating on when the days were like this. She smiled fondly as distant memories of sitting on his father's lap while he read to her and Bruce next to the fire were brought to light. A dated, velvet chair sat lonely to the side of the window. The fireplace wasn't lit yet, but the yellow glow of the old chandelier and the smell of books made the room dreamily warm. She felt tired again already.

Her favorite thing about the room, she decided, was the lack of anything that suggested he was anyone—anything—other than Bruce Wayne. No technology. No secret rooms. Nothing. Just a big window, books, a fireplace and vintage furniture. She smiled fondly at the comfort the thought elicited.

Bruce led Aurora to the couch, and she groaned as she sat. She leaned against the big arm of the couch and watched him as he walked over to the fireplace and set a few oak logs in it, using some starter and a lighter to get the fire going. The stone walls and ceiling keep the room well insulated in the winter, especially with a fire going. Once he was satisfied with the size of the flames, Bruce walked to the chair only a few feet from Aurora and sat, sinking into the cushions.

"Should I have Alfred bring us some tea? Sarah's probably resting now."

"That would be great," Aurora smiled. She forgot Sarah was even there. "She's... They didn't do anything to her, did they?"

"She's fine." Bruce stood from his chair and walked to the small PA system mounted on the wall. "Alfred, could you make us some tea? We're in the library," he said into the speaker.

"Of course, sir," Alfred's voice replied.

"Thank you."

Bruce fell back into it his seat and continued, "I'll say that it was a good thing I got there when I did. For both your sakes." There was no way of telling what would have happened to them if he decided to just stay home instead of following her. Well, there was. She would have had a terminal case of Bullet-in-Brain at the bottom of the Gotham River.

The fire radiated warmth into the room, and the stone walls reflected the heat back toward the fire, warming the entire space. It was a very refreshing feeling. Aurora let out a deep sigh, wrapping herself in a blanket from the back of the couch and closing her eyes against the heat.

"So you said you have some questions for me?"

Aurora nodded, but what would she ask him? There was so much she needed to know, but had no idea how to ask.

"I have two questions to start. How have you gone so long without anyone finding out about you? And what kind of people have you faced? They can't all be just like Maroni and Deathstroke." Aurora looked up at him. Bruce was so close, creating a heat in her more wonderful than any flame could ever hope to do.

"I keep to myself. I'm a shareholder of my family's company, so I don't have a real job. Just a trust fund. People think of Bruce Wayne—of me—as someone who simply wastes all his money on booze and girls. It just makes it easier to be Batman," he explained, then took a deep breath. "I've been mainly focused on the corruption that lies in the GCPD, which is how I received my injuries three years ago. Slade was the first opponent I've faced who actually made me doubt myself. He's a master of what he does. As for Maroni, he's no different than any other crime lord. He just hasn't been careful, and that makes him an easy target."

He stood from his seat and walked over to the fire, elbow on the mantle and forehead resting in his hand.

"I'm taking Gotham back from corruption and lies, and returning it to the hands of the people who deserve it and will safeguard it. People like Harvey Dent and James Gordon." He turned back to face her, the fire casting a shadow over half his face.

"How could you stand helping the people who tried to kill you?" Aurora paused. "I can see how much the police have changed for the better if I really think about it. But it's still ridden with terrible people. Harvey Dent's no better than the rest of them. He has his moments, but I still can't stand the guy." She sighed and sat up. "I like Gordon, though."

"I do it because they're worth it. What's a few bad people compared to a million innocent ones? And while Harvey Dent may have some rough edges, he is one man who appreciates what Batman does. His conviction is one that remains despite all of the hardship Gotham goes through. He's a better man than most people think. I believe in him."

 _You don't know Harvey like I do_ , the girl thought and rolled her eyes internally.

She heard the door swing open and Alfred entered, balancing porcelain tea cups on a silver tray.

"Your tea, sir. It's lovely to see you out and about, Miss Rider. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask," Alfred said as he set the tray down on a small table in the center of the furniture. He bowed curtly and exited the room. Bruce walked to the small table and gave Aurora her cup, which she took gratefully, then he went back to his seat.

"He cherishes your presence, despite the circumstances you're here under. It's been awhile since the Waynes had any guests."

"I was here a lot while you were gone," she explained.

"I'm glad Alfred had someone to keep him company. God knows how lonely it gets in a house like this," he replied and took a sip of his tea.

She sipped from her tea, too, letting the warm liquid lull her into relaxation.

"He's a really great man. You shouldn't get so upset with him when he confronts you about being Batman. Try to understand things from his point of view—you see yourself as this invincible being, but Alfred knows you're not, and tries to make you see that. You're all he has, Bruce. You're all he's had for a long time, and he's afraid he'll lose you."

She brought the teacup to her lips again, pulling the blanket closer.

"Anything else?" he finally asked, clearly not wanting to argue his mortality with her. "That can't be everything you want to know."


	11. Great Place for an Origin Story

After she was content with every single answer to even her stupidest questions, Aurora fell back asleep on the couch and remained there until around ten at night. The sun was long past down (which she knew only because of the snowy moon's glow through the window) and Bruce wasn't with her anymore. The last thing she remembered before she fell asleep was him kneeling right beside her, answering her silly questions with the fire flickering behind him and making her eyes tired.

Sometime in the period she was asleep, she overheated, so there was a sheer layer of sweat across her face and the back of her neck. Aurora pushed off the crushing covers, feeling no better than a soggy microwaveable burrito being pulled from its packaging. It had been a long few days.

"Bruce?" she called tiredly, in vain because there was no answer. She half expected him to be off in the city, but she hoped he would have said goodbye before he left.

Aurora stood and ambled past the giant wooden door, meandering toward Bruce's study. Once there, she played the notes while yawning and casually stepped into the elevator. She let the blue light run over her body and confirm it was her, then descended to the cave and looked around for him.

On the far side of the room, the weapons she knocked over were reset to their previous, organized position. Aurora blushed just a little at the remembrance of the mess she made, but then laughed once under her breath. It was also funny how casual this was already becoming for her—and a little disturbing, too.

"Bruce?" she called out again with an echoing, groggy voice.

The large chair in front of the massive computer spun around to reveal Bruce in full armor minus the cowl.

"Aurora, you should really be resting," he said with apparent worry, feet silent as the closed the distance between the two.

"I just wanted to see if you were still here."

"I am. But I have to go. There's been a report of a break in at ACE Chemicals," he explained.

 _ACE Chemicals?_ she thought. If it was just a break-in, why was he going?

"I know what you're thinking, but the individual reported there was ID'ed as the Red Hood, a symbol for an international crime syndicate recognized by Interpol, the FBI… You name it." He returned to the computer and typed on the keyboard and brought up security camera footage of the robber.

Her eyes flicked to the screen showing a man dressed not in some costume, but in a normal suit. That was even scarier than some costumed hooligan.

He was wearing a black tuxedo with a red boutonnière, a red bucket on his head, and a red cape flowed from his shoulders.

Bruce reached for the cowl sitting beside the keyboard and lowered it onto his head.

"Listen, you should really go back upstairs. Or at least call Alfred down here with you. I wouldn't want you alone down here if something were to happen," he explained as he walked away from her toward his motorcycle, the lights on the stretch of floor coming to life one by one in a long column as he continued toward it.

"I will," she promised. _Try to come back in one piece_.

She watched him go with a small smile of confidence and belief in Bruce.

Rising from below the ground and rotating on a platform was an armored motorcycle. Bruce swung a leg around it and turned the engine over, bringing the built-in computer to life with a soft whir. He looked back to Aurora, his face unchanged as he revved the vehicle, just a solid look of determination in his eyes. He nodded his head slightly and bent his shoulders to the curvature of the bike, then sped away.

#

The tunnel leading to Gotham took Bruce under the lake near his home. Glass walls stretched overhead and lights illuminated all of the undersea life floating in the icy waters above him. The motorcycle shot out of the tunnel's end and sped down the main road, heading toward Gotham. Bruce tapped the screen on the motorcycle, causing a dial tone in his ear.

"Aurora, can you hear me?" he asked, voice (theoretically) buzzing from the speakers near the computer in the cave.

"Bruce?" he heard Aurora's voice call faintly.

"There should be an earpiece near the computer. I need you to keep me monitored on the police situation outside of the ACE Chemicals building. You can use the earpiece to keep communications with me."

"I'm watching," she told him, voice clearer.

Now she would be his eyes where he needed them—his own watchful protector.

"Good. I need you to tell me when Gordon arrives on scene."

He knew that, with Gordon there, he could trust that the police would be under control. It would make his life easier. Bruce hoped that by being able to capture this man, he could interrogate him and find out more about the Red Hood Gang.

Bruce's motorcycle sped down the highway, his specially designed tires keeping the bike from spinning out if he hit a patch of ice as he weaved in and out of traffic. He was nearing Park Row, the location of ACE Chemicals.

It just so happened to be across from the Monarch Theatre.

He pulled to a stop a few streets away and parked in an alley. As he stepped off the motorcycle, his finger tapped a button on his gauntlet that set the bike to armored mode, shielding it from the tampering of any passersby.

He used his grapple gun to ascend onto the roof, where two police snipers were stationed. Bruce climbed up over the ledge and silently snuck up behind them. He grasped both of their heads and smashed them together, sending them crumbling unconscious to the ground.

Bruce crouched down on the ledge of the roof and pulled his cryptographic sequencer from his belt, which enabled him to hack into the police communications. He listened carefully for any indication that the police had men on the inside. To his surprise, and luck, the SWAT team had yet to arrive.

Bruce took a few steps back, and then sprinted toward the edge of the roof and leapt off. His cape sprung to life, allowing him to glide downward until he burst through window on the side of the large chemical factory. He shot his grapple upwards immediately, pulling him up to the steel rafters.

"I'm inside, Aurora. Now is when I really need you to pay attention. I can't get the police radio communications in here so I need you to tell me if they force entry into the building while I look for the Red Hood," he explained in a hushed voice. He began to walk along the narrow rafter, having no trouble keeping his balance. His eyes scanned the floor of the building, looking for any sign of the color red.

A few minutes of searching, keeping well hidden, and bingo. There was Red Hood. Bruce couldn't see what he was doing from his angle, but whatever it was involved some pretty volatile chemicals. It raised one question.

Why?

She didn't say anything about her needing to pay attention. It was clear that she did. What did he think she was doing? Knitting a scarf?

Aurora squinted just slightly to get a better view of the screen. There was no glare on it, but it was dark and any figures she could make out could have been a trash can or shadow just as easily as they could have been a person.

Red and blue lights danced across the building and three police cars skidded to a stop. They all stepped out, but she only recognized one.

"Gordon's there," she told Bruce. "He's talking to a few guys. They look pretty calm." Aurora paused. "Aaaand now they look pissed. SWAT's pulling in, too. Gordon's going over there now." She sat in the chair Bruce was in before he left, pulled her feet up and wrapped her arms around her legs.

Her eyes glanced to the far right of the screen, which was live-streaming the news coverage of the scene. More police cars pulled up and joined the masses. Gordon didn't seem happy as he walked away, shouting orders to someone while the leader of the SWAT gave orders to his own men. They began readying themselves.

"They're going in, Bruce. SWAT's getting ready. Watch out," her voice was urgent and her body tense as the group of men broke through the door and ran inside.

On the screen to the left she saw a shadow move through the rafters—Batman. She smirked to herself and leaned back against the chair. He knew what he was doing. It was nice to be able to watch and make sure of that.

Below him was the man he described to her, and chemicals rested below that.

"Be careful," Aurora whispered and chewed the inside of her lip.

#

Bruce didn't reply to anything, just listened to what Aurora had to say. He was silent as he moved about the rafters. When the police busted in, he cursed quietly under his breath. Gordon couldn't keep a leash on Branden.

Red Hood turned and looked in the direction the SWAT team was pouring in from, and then ordered two men wearing red ski masks to confront the them, guns raised.

 _It's going to be a bloodbath_ , Bruce thought.

Gunshots sounded from the other side of the warehouse. He cursed to himself as he grappled to a rafter over the fire-fight. He reached to his belt for two smoke pellets and dropped them, thick gray smoke flooding the room.

Bruce dropped down behind the two Red Hood henchmen and quickly incapacitated them, all while managing to avoid the hail of gunfire coming from the SWAT team. He looked in their direction, and they stopped firing. He pulled a small, cylindrical device from his belt and pressed a button on the side. It began flashing red and he rolled it across the floor in their direction. The sound of the men shouting in confusion began to reverberate throughout the warehouse.

Bruce smirked and grappled back into the rafters, heading in the direction of Red Hood.

What he had tossed at the cops was a prototype crowd control device he liked to call the "glue grenade".

Self-explanatory.

He returned to the last known location of the Red Hood, who was now missing.

"Damn," Bruce muttered as he dropped to the floor and began to walk toward the chemicals Red Hood was tampering with. He observed the device that was wired to the large container of chemicals.

"Aurora, he's planning to—" Bruce was cut short by a sharp pain in his side. He stumbled to the side, caught completely off guard. He'd have to contact Lucius about the armor's weakness.

"Ooooh, look what we have here," a muffled voice started to say from behind him as Bruce regained himself.

"Red Hood," was all he said as he turned to face him.

"In the flesh," the man said, bowing. "It seems that I have attracted quite the guest to my party here, Batman."

"I know what you're planning. You won't get away with it," Bruce shot back.

"Oh, but I already have. I can't stick around long, Bats, I've got plenty of work to do," the man said, checking an invisible watch. "It's been fun!"

The man reached for his boutonnière and squeezed it, shooting a green liquid toward Bruce's cowl. With sickly sizzling, it went to work eating away the mask. Bruce, reaching blindly into his belt, whipped out a small vial and poured the liquid it contained over his cowl, stopping the acidic fluid just before it managed to reach his face. He knew he would be coming to a chemical factory, so he came prepared for anything.

By the time he looked up, the Red Hood was gone, running across a catwalk overhead. Bruce could hear the voices of police calling out behind him. They must've gotten free. He reached for his belt and pulled his grapple out, firing it up to the catwalk. Bruce swung up and cut the man off.

"Damn, you're a persistent one," the man said, reaching for his pistol.

Bruce took a step forward and knocked the gun out of his hand, rage fueling his attack. He began to beat the man, who was a weakling of hand to hand combat compared to Deathstroke and the myriad others he had faced. Bruce kicked the man in the gut, which caused him to stumble backwards. The man started laughing, cackling almost.

"Impressive, Batman."

"There! There they are! Fire! Fire!" Bruce heard a voice call below. He looked for a moment to find Branden and the SWAT team pointing their guns at the two of them.

Everything moved in slow motion.

Bullets flew like crazed bees around them, footsteps pounding madly in their direction.

Red Hood shoved Bruce to the ground and was hit in the shoulder by a bullet. He lost his balance and fell over the railing of the catwalk. Bruce scrambled to his feet, reaching for the man's arm. He barely managed to grab onto him.

"Please don't drop me!" the man begged. He was hanging over a vat of chemicals. Of course he begged. Bruce began to pull him up, the knife wound complicating things. "Oh, thank you. Thank you—" Bruce grunted in surprise as a bullet hit him in the back, denting his armor. Bruce's grip on the man loosened and he dropped him.

"NO!" Bruce called down to the man as he fell into the vat with a loud splash followed by vomit-inducing sizzling and popping, already-demented body vanishing slowly beneath the surface in a fit of screaming and wailing.

Bruce turned, looking directly at Branden. His eyes narrowed and jaw clenched as he jumped from the catwalk's railing, flying toward Branden. He tackled him, taking one or two shots as he divebombed the man. He quickly stood and threw two batarangs at the cops. They lodged in the sides of their guns and began to beep, detonating and blowing their guns to pieces, which knocked out the other two SWAT members.

Bruce knelt overtop Branden, raining down on him. "You. Just. Killed. Him," he growled between punches. Blood spattered across his armor as he continued to punch Branden.

"Bruce, stop!" he hardly heard Aurora shout in his ear. "Stop!"

He didn't.

He wasn't listening to her. He wasn't listening to anyone.

He kept delivering merciless blows.

A bullet ricocheted off his shoulder. Insignificant, but enough to get his attention. He looked up, breathing heavy.

"Gordon."

Bruce stood slowly from his kneeling position over Branden. He looked toward Gordon, blood dripping from his knuckles, Branden beneath him in a bloody heap.

He snapped back to reality, realizing that Red Hood's device was still armed.

"You're under arrest, Batman! Show me your hands!" Gordon shouted.

"Gordon, listen to me. There's a bomb attached to these chemicals. If it's allowed to detonate, there's no telling how many could die," Bruce replied, trying to catch his breath. He was losing blood fast.

"Where's Red Hood?" Gordon asked.

"Dead. Branden killed him," Bruce replied stoically.

Gordon was silent. He reached for the radio on his jacket.

"I need a bomb squad in here. Now," Gordon demanded into the radio as he hastened toward the device. Bruce was confident in the bomb squad. By the time Gordon turned back to face Bruce, he had vanished.

His motorcycle sped through the underwater tunnel and back into the Batcave. He climbed off and looked to the computer to find Aurora there, looking terrified. Bruce pulled the acid eroded cowl off of his head and tossed it to the ground. He fell to his knees, clutching his side. Blood still poured out of his wound.

"Get...Alfred..." he told her as he collapsed to the ground.

He barely heard her talk to Alfred, which must have been over the phone since there were no replies from the man, and then heard her feet shuffling quickly across the cold floor.

The girl pushed his damp hair away from his face. "Oh, Bruce," she breathed. "I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help you."

"Pressure on the wound," he told her quickly. He could feel his body going into shock. He began to peel away his chest piece and gauntlets, freeing his movement. He reached for her hand and grabbed it, holding tightly. "I couldn't save him. I tried and...I couldn't." He felt darkness embracing him. His eyes grew darker. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Blackness dropped over him.

#

It wasn't his fault. How could anything be his fault?

Alfred came down the lift with a bag of medical supplies over his shoulder, running toward both of them. He turned Bruce over so he was lying on his back.

"Could you hand me that clamp, please?"

Aurora was frozen. It was real. That horrid dream was real. He was going to die.

"Miss Rider," Alfred urged, totally calm as he pointed to a small metal tool on the other side of the girl. "Could you hand me that clamp, please?"

She handed it to him and he dug into the wound, prying clothing from the wound. Bruce groaned unconsciously in pain as Alfred removed the large bullet. Alfred went into the bag and pulled a needle and thread from it. He threaded the eye of the needle and cooly began to sew the wound closed like a tear in an old pair of jeans. After he finished, he poured some alcohol over it as disinfectant.

They sat there in silence for a long time, just watching Bruce.

"He should stabilize fairly quickly now that the bleeding has been stopped," he said finally. "Thank you, Miss Rider. You made the right decision calling me." He was panting slightly. "I may need your help getting him upstair—" Bruce slowly rolled over and sat up, groaning.

"Alfred? Where's Aurora?" Bruce asked. Alfred simply pointed over Bruce's shoulder, already on his way back upstairs like this was all routine. Bruce turned his head toward Aurora.

At his look of relief, she barely smiled.

"I thought I was losing you for a second there." She stayed where she was, not reaching for him, rather letting him remain still. "I think it's your turn to get some rest."

"The bombs. Did Gordon get rid of them?" he asked.

She nodded, supposing he could be sure Gordon succeeded without asking. If the bombs were allowed to detonate, all of Gotham would be covered in a chemical fog so thick, one breath would melt your lungs.

Bruce slowly climbed to his feet, his shirt stained with blood. Aurora gasped and rushed to his side, attempting to support him, though he miraculously didn't seem to need it.

He pulled off what armor still covered him and dropped the pieces to the floor.

"Thank you for your help. Things could've been a lot worse if I didn't have any eyes on the scene."

Aurora kept a solid grip on Bruce as he hobbled toward the elevator.

"It was good to be able to help. When I had no idea what you were doing last time, I was terrified. Not that I like watching you in that sort of situation…" She trailed off, the image of him beating that man to a pulp now smack in the front of her mind. "Are you sure you want to stand up? You don't want to take a minute to sit?"

"No, no. I'm fine," he told her as he pulled the lever of the lift, sending them upward. "I owe you a lot, Aurora," he told her. He reached down and interlocked his fingers with hers.

"You don't owe me anything. It's okay that I saw it. I understand why you did it." Her voice wavered a little out of uncertainty, but she continued. "I'll help you to your room and start the shower for you. I don't want you to ruin Alfred's hard work on that wound." Aurora smiled a little and led him out of the elevator, squeezing his hand with hardly any force. "You know, Bruce, I was thinking while you were gone… Maybe you were right when you said we shouldn't be together. The way I felt when you were fighting that man over those chemicals is something no one should ever have to feel. And that must've been how you felt when Maroni had me. I know I nearly killed myself over all this before but," she took a deep breath and they made short eye contact, then she averted her eyes to the ground, "I don't think either of us should hurt this bad."

"I'm willing to hurt," he said, stopping in his tracks and turning to face her. "Because the pleasure outweighs the pain. I will always be there to rescue you. Always," he held her chin between his thumb and forefinger and brought her head up. The two of them locked eyes. She saw the confidence in his, and knew it didn't mix well with the sadness in hers. "You're worth anything."

She looked down again.

"What about when I lose you, Bruce? What about when something happens and you're gone? You haven't been back a month and you've already almost died twice. And I had a dream that you…" _Were brutally murdered_.

Aurora's jaw clenched when he pulled her chin to look at him again and her lips pressed into a hard line, but her eyes reflected something else. Doubt and fear not only in him, but in all of his enemies. In Gotham. "I'm not worth anything. But you are. I don't want to be the reason for your downfall. I don't want to be a weak spot for what you need to do. And I'm scared, Bruce," she whispered.

"Look at me," he commanded, taking her face in both of his hands and gently directing her head so their eyes met once more. "You are priceless. You are one of the last good people of Gotham. I would gladly go out there and lay down my life if it meant that you would survive and carry on your ideals and your morals. People like you are the reason I fight. You don't give me weak spots, you fuel my initiatives." He took a deep breath. "Don't be afraid. I will protect you." He pulled her into his arms and embraced her, allowing her to bury her face in his sweaty torso. "I won't die. I'm stronger than any criminal in this city because of one small detail. I've got something I'm fighting for."

His skin felt warm against her face. His embrace made her want to cry. "Come on," he said, leading her up the stairs once again.

There was no way she could have replied to him, so she kept herself quiet and let the injured man lead her up the stairs.


	12. Light

While Bruce went to take off his shirt, Aurora went into the bathroom to start the shower. The temperature it was set to the last time was less than freezing, which made her wonder why. She turned it up so the entire bathroom was engulfed in steam.

"Aurora?"

"Yeah?"

The girl turned around to face Bruce and found his eyes dark. Her breath caught a little and she just sort of…stared at him. _Snap out of it_ , she scolded herself and blinked back from her reverie. "What is it?"

He sauntered toward her, the steam from the shower enveloping the pair. He reached out for her, fingers brushing lightly over her shoulder, making her shudder. With his other hand, he gently grasped her hip, slowly pulling them together until their bodies touched.

"Don't scold me for what's about to happen," he told her.

He brought his head down, their foreheads touching. He closed his eyes and their lips met.

Every time they kissed, she felt the same electricity course through her, causing every nerve to tingle with anticipation and desire. His grip on her tightened and lips parted against hers as Bruce tilted her back, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

Her hand raised again in the same manner it did earlier, then gently rested on his face. More than anything, Aurora was confused. He was mercurial in every sense of the word. From dead to angry to calm to this.

"Bruce, I—"

"Would you care to join me?" he cut her off.

 _Well_ , the girl thought to herself, _of course I do_. But she hesitated. What was she doing? He was practically dead two minutes ago. All of her fears just poured out on a platter for him and he was going to ask her into the shower with him? And the point was (clearly) not to shower.

Aurora just nodded and stood there. The steam was all around them, sticking to Aurora's skin and clothes, while Bruce was already damp with sweat and dark red blood (which she didn't fancy seeing).

His fingers tugged gently at the bottom of her shirt. Aurora was still unsure of herself and of her decision when his hands slipped up, up, up her torso.

Her entire body was rigid and cold, but he easily changed that.

He dropped her shirt to the floor and looked at her for a few seconds before his hands glided up her flat stomach, gently tickling her in a teasing way. She gasped at his touch and already felt her knees weakening. It was okay, though, because he easily had her scooped up with her legs wrapped around him and set her on the damp, cool, stone countertop. The steam made their skin slippery and soft.

Bruce shut the door behind them, then began kissing her again. His kiss was gentle and soft, like the way his hands explored her body. The heat of it matched the warm air around them. Made her melt against him.

He broke their kiss and locked gazes with her.

"I've wanted this for so long," he whispered to her.

"I have, too." Aurora's lips twitched into a small smile, which disappeared immediately after their lips met again.

Their kiss became more and more passionate. She felt his hands move to her back, then toy with the hooks of her bra, all while he gently tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth.

He unclasped her bra and immediately her arms shot over her chest to keep it from falling. Despite her shyness, she let him ease them away with some hesitation. Their eyes met among the steam and her black lace bra to fell to the tile floor. It gave her a small confidence boost when he kept his eyes on hers. Nowhere else.

They slowly entered into another kiss. His hands slowly moved up her body, inching closer and closer to her breasts. Painfully slowly. Aurora stifled a moan, making it come out as a soft whimper. Her hands gripped the edge of the slippery counter.

"Bruce…" she sighed, stopping to breathe for a second.

The girl moved in to kiss him again, but he moved elsewhere. Her neck warmed with sensation as his lips pressed down on her, along with her chest and some deep, dark part of her stomach. Suddenly, their lips met again, clashing in pure desire. His hands massaged her chest softly.

She couldn't think of anywhere she'd rather be. Except maybe one place.

"The shower's going to run cold, Bruce."

He smirked.

"Pushing things along, are we?"

He reached for her waistline and tucked his fingers into her pants, dragging them along her skin to the center.

"I'm not apt to take cold showers," she breathed, smiling just a little.

The steam around them made it hard to see his face and she took just a brief moment to worry about how hot the water would be, but the worry washed away at the brush of his fingertips under her waistband.

Bruce removed all the material from her body, leaving her naked on the counter. There was no bit of awkward in the air, majorly because the steam left no room for it. He slowly took off his own pants and stepped out of them.

Aurora gasped and bit her lip as his hands ran up her legs. The steam made them slick and shiny, a mixture of sweat and condensation wrapping up her legs and the rest of her fair skin. He brought his lips to her ear and exhaled, "Ladies first," slowly taking a step back and helping her off the counter.

Sliding down, she stepped toward the shower. The girl glanced over her shoulder at him upon stepping in.

"Come on," she pulled him in with her, pushed her slowly curling hair out of her face and kept their eyes locked.

At first, the water burned her skin, but Bruce quickly joined her and blocked it. She could feel his entire body begin to relax under the heat. Their tongues tangled in each others, exploring and asserting their dominance.

Aurora, of course, allowed him to win and inhaled deeply at the feeling of him crashing down even harder on her lips after a brief pause. With each second the kiss continued, his hands lowered more. From her chest to her shoulders, down to her mid back, to her lower back, and then right where she wanted him to be.

The soothing warmth of the hot water was nothing compared to the man holding her close. Bruce was warmth. He was solidity and strength and security. He was comfort and he was hope.

He was Batman.

He wasn't hers. He never would be.

A swirl of cold blew through her at the thought, but Bruce's lips melted it away like ice cubes in hot chocolate.

Why did he have to do these things to her? Her mind was a disaster from the past few days as it was. He was a catalyst to her imminent mental breakdown, and she really didn't appreciate it.

But, God, could he kiss.

He pulled away for unclear reasons and looked at her with a small smirk, but Aurora didn't want to stop kissing him—not yet. She moved slightly closer but he stopped her.

"Easy there, Aurora," he told her, the smirk still present. She leaned toward him expectantly, only to be pressed against the icy tile. The girl gasped, pressing against the wall with her palms and taking deep breaths to distract herself from the cold. His lips met hers again, finally, their warmth against the front of her mixing with the ice cold tile behind her.

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

His words made the cold of the tile fade.

"I'm sure."

The two of them made their way out of the shower and into bed, both fully clothed in warm, comfortable pajamas. Bruce pulled the oversized comforter over both of them as Aurora cuddled into him, resting her head and forearm across his chest. His arm reached around her shoulder and held her tight.

The dim light in the room shut off when Bruce softly spoke, "Lights."

His fingers ran gently through Aurora's beautiful golden hair. It was damp and soft as a result of the warm water that they had spent so much time under.

"Thank you," he whispered. "You gave me a reason to come back."

"I love you, Bruce," she whispered.

She could hear his small smile when he told her, "I love you, Aurora."


	13. Meanwhile

"You know, by hiring you to do this, I'm taking a risk. You have no credibility in this city," the Italian accented man explained, speaking to someone concealed by shadow.

"Don't you worry a bit, Sal. Our friend won't know what hit him," the man in the darkness replied.

"How much do you want for the job?" Maroni asked.

"Hmmmm. Just give me some guys, guns, and throw in some fireworks for good measure. Ha!"

The man emerged from the darkness, revealing his face to Maroni.

He was tall—taller than most. Green hair, red lips, pale white skin. A cheap purple suit with some green accents. The Joker. That's what he was calling himself.

"Consider it done. You know, for a guy who claims he can kill the Bat, you're pretty cheap," Maroni explained, lighting a cigarette with a wooden match. The pungent stench of his cigar filled the room instantly. The Joker made a disgusted face.

"You know, smoking is a nasty habit, Sal," he said, following a deep sniff.

"That's Mr. Maroni to you, Clown," a thug said from behind Maroni's desk.

The Joker's chaotic smile vanished, replaced by an angry frown.

"Did you ever hear the one about the henchman with the broken glass in his stomach?" the Joker asked, cackling slightly.

"N-no. I'd rather not," the thug replied, trying to stand firm despite the newfound fear within him.

"When I tell a joke, you'd better listen for the punchline. Hell, you might even be the punchline! HAHAHAHA!" The Joker doubled over in a fit of laughter, only to be interrupted by the sound of breaking glass followed by thick, white smoke. The door busted open and several armed SWAT members wearing gas masks entered, followed by Lieutenant Gordon.

"This is the GCPD! You are all under arrest!" Gordon called out. The thugs surrendered with almost no fight, and the Joker managed to slip away, as if he was never even there.

"Hehehehe...HAHAHAHAHA! You and I are going to have a fun night, Bats!" The Joker skipped down the alley on the opposite side of the building the police were raiding. A few henchmen reluctantly decided to follow him. "Don't worry, boys. I know how to treat you thugs right!"


	14. Order in the Court

When Aurora woke up, she and Bruce were tangled in a wonderful nest of warmth, one of his hands holding her head close to his chest and the other holding one of hers. The girl yawned and gave him a drowsy smile, stretching but not moving enough to ruin the mold their bodies formed overnight.

"I love you," was the first thing she said in her tired voice, followed by, "Me, too," after he commented on that being the best sleep he had in a long time.

"Master Bruce, I apologize if I have awoken you, but there is something on the news you might like to see," Alfred's voice explained through the house-wide PA system.

At the sound of the TV turning on, Aurora sat up just enough that she could see the screen, her head resting between Bruce's ribs and arm.

"They're putting him away," she smiled just a little and looked up at him with the eyes of an excited child. It was the Gotham City News channel, broadcasting Maroni as he walked up the steps of city hall for his trial. The headline running across the bottom of the screen read: Sal 'The Boss' Maroni arrested in police raid. "Because of you. You did it, Bruce."

"Well, that remains to be seen. We don't know how his trial will play out. But that little flash drive you gave Dent should tip the scales in our favor." He paused to climb out of the bed. "It's a public trial." He moved toward his walk-in closet. "You know, I've always wondered what you'd look like as a brunette."

"What do you-?" He pulled out an astonishingly realistic wig and handed it to her. "You want to go? Won't someone recognize us? Or at least you?"

"You don't need to worry about being recognized. I'll be wearing a fake beard. Besides, Bruce Wayne is in the Bahamas with Aurora Rider," he said playfully from his closet.

"I keep forgetting that we're supposed to be on vacation," Aurora stated, examining the wig in her hands. "I wouldn't call the past week relaxing."

"We can come back from our vacation after Maroni is locked up," he called out from the huge closet.

She walked away from the bed with a small, tired smile, ending up in the bathroom. There, she searched around until she came across a drawer full of a few things a girl would use. She grimaced just a little, the thought of another girl filling her place in his bed making Aurora's skin crawl.

Pushing any thoughts of that from her mind, she dug into the drawer and came across a hairbrush. Her hair was notably smooth and silky from their long, hot shower, so brushing it out and putting it up under the wig was easy, but hard to keep contained. Aurora managed to get all her loose hair tucked up under it so she really did look like a brunette. To her, it seemed like she was a completely new person; darker and harder than she was with her naturally blonde hair. Her lips pressed into a soft line. She proceeded to brush her teeth, and since there was a vast amount of makeup in the drawer below the one she had open, she put some on so she wouldn't look like such a mess at the trial.

Finally, she dabbed on a thin layer of lipstick, followed by an even thinner layer of gloss, and went back out to him.

"I trust you have something for me to wear, too, Mr. Wayne, since it seems your only other option is that I go naked, and that's a terrible disguise."

"I do have something for you to wear. It's casual, since we're trying to avoid attention," he explained, pulling open a drawer and revealing a small collection of women's clothing. "Take your pick."

He left.

She pulled down one of the many outfits and dressed herself. As she stepped out of the large closet, she finished buttoning the top of the blue jacket that went over a blouse. It was a casual outfit, but dressy enough for court, even though anyone who dared to show their face would be scumbags affected by Maroni in some way, and would wear jeans and an old shirt.

She couldn't help but laugh a little at Bruce with a beard. It was attractive in some ways, but Aurora never saw him any way other than clean-shaven.

"You know, I really hate wearing this thing," he said quietly, leaning down to kiss her.

She leaned back to avoid his kiss, smiling teasingly up at him.

"Not while you've got that on." Aurora reached up and kissed his cheek.

He smiled. "Are you ready to go?"

"I'm ready."

"Let's get moving. I'll have Alfred drive us. It's a bit more inconspicuous than driving down to the courthouse in the Lambo," he explained, leading her out of the room.

Alfred was waiting for the both of them at the bottom of the grand staircase.

"Good to see you, stranger," Bruce said to Alfred as they descended the stairs.

"I have been busy tending to Sarah, sir. Pardon my absence. I trust you have been enjoying your stay, Miss Rider?" Alfred asked.

She couldn't help but smile at Alfred's comment about "tending" to Sarah.

"I have, Alfred. Thank you."

The trio began walking toward the large oak door, out onto the snowy and windy grounds. Alfred took the driver's seat of the black Lincoln they would be riding in and Bruce opened Aurora's door. She slipped inside and he followed, sitting close to her as he shut the car door.

A screen in the center console lit up blue and a computerized voice spoke from the speakers inside all four doors.

"Setting destination. 42nd District Court, Park Row, Gotham City."

Alfred sat back as the car began to steer itself off the grounds of the manor and toward the highway that would lead them to the court.

"You've seen Lucius, haven't you, Alfred?" Bruce asked, grinning slightly.

"Yes, sir. He stopped by to up the security in the manor while you were out. I'm beta testing some new autopilot software that Fox developed," Alfred stated.

"Wait, he makes your—well, Batman's stuff?" Aurora eyes widened in realization and she sat back in her seat, shaking her head slightly.

It took nearly half an hour to get to the courthouse. Aurora kept quiet the entire car ride there, listening to Bruce and Alfred talk. It was nice to listen to them—they spoke to each other in a different way than they spoke to anyone else.

Alfred got out and opened the door to let Bruce and Aurora out. A sea of press surrounded them, but Aurora was confident in the disguises Bruce provided.

Once they arrived at the courthouse, they stepped into a mass of reporters and paparazzi that ignored the two as they slipped inside without notice. They took their seats a few rows from the back. Everyone else was battling for the front rows, saving seats and squeezing multiple people into each row like they were getting ready for the unveiling of some spectacular phenomenon.

"They're like animals," Aurora pointed out in a low voice, taking in the scene as best she could. It was a mess with a remarkable lack of order for a court. Aurora adjusted herself next to Bruce on the bench.

"I told you we'd be able to blend. Everyone is too distracted by Maroni to care about who's in attendance."

He shifted his weight slightly so his arm rested on the back of the bench behind Aurora's shoulder, allowing the two of them to sit a bit closer together. Any nerves she had faded.

The judge marched through the doors of his chambers. He was an intimidating man: large, with an angry expression on his face. Maroni was probably paying him off.

"All rise!" the chocolate-skinned bailiff called out from beside the judge's bench. Bruce and Aurora stood, and were then seated at the judge's command.

Harvey Dent stood from his seat, as well as Maroni's lawyer. The two both gave their opening statements. Harvey was surprisingly persuasive in his speaking.

Maybe not surprisingly.

The two went back and forth for a bit, pointing out pieces of evidence for and against Maroni, calling various witnesses and questioning them.

"I call Salvatore Maroni to the stand," Harvey ordered after about forty minutes of his show, pointing at the man.

Maroni took his seat beside the judge with a smug smirk as he took the oath. Something didn't seem right. For being on the losing side of the battle, he was exuding quite a bit of confidence.

Maroni began digging around inside of his jacket, claiming that he had to take medicine for a stomach ulcer. He pulled a bottle of "antacid" from his jacket and unscrewed the top, bringing it up to his lips. There was a pause for a moment before Maroni jumped to his feet.

"Screw you, Dent! You're dead!" Maroni splashed the antacid across half of Harvey's face, revealing it to be a highly corrosive chemical in disguise.

Aurora gasped at the disgusting sizzle the acid made as it ate his skin, and whispered, "Harvey," her hand moving to cover her mouth.

Crowd ballistic, Harvey crumbled to the ground, clutching his face and writhing about on the floor, screaming in pain. Bruce stood as everyone else did, trying to get a better view. Aurora stayed seated, staring at Harvey in shock.

Bruce looked down to Aurora.

"We need to get out of here," he explained, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her from the bench.

Harvey was surrounded by people, all trying to get a picture or video of his disfigured face. All of their cameras went dead in an instant and Aurora made a confused face. Confused, that is, until she realized Bruce killed their phones.

He led Aurora out of the courthouse and down the steps. Alfred pulled in front of them in the car, the tires screeching to a stop. The back doors opened automatically as Bruce and Aurora started to climb in. The tires skidded against the icy pavement as they turned around hastily.

"They're already talking about it on the radio, Master Bruce," Alfred explained. Bruce hung his head and exhaled loudly, sounding quite defeated.

"Damn..." he muttered, looking up at Aurora. "This changes everything."

"I don't understand," she announced, shaking her head. "How would this change anything? Doesn't it just mean he's definitely being put away now?" Alfred took off down the street, jerking her back against the seat.

"Harvey Dent was the only person willing enough to stand up against the scum of Gotham in a court of law. He'll never show his face again."

If he has any face left, she thought, the image of the sizzling acid burned into the front of her mind, then slapped herself mentally. Too soon.

He started mumbling to himself, which made her nervous.

"It all fits..." he whispered, exhaling sharply. "It all fits," he said a little louder, looking up to Aurora.

"You can't just do that, Bruce," Aurora's hand found his face. "You need to talk to me." What fit? How could Maroni have anything to do with Dent? Or whatever else was going on in his head?

None of this made a bit of sense to her. Dent, Maroni, the chemicals...

Her eyes widened slightly and her hand slowly returned to her lap.

"The chemicals," she stated vaguely.

"Bingo," Bruce replied as Aurora pieced it together herself. "I need to go back to ACE tonight and do some snooping," he explained. He looked to Aurora and his lips pressed together. He thought for a moment and opened his mouth to speak. "You can help me again," he suggested. "I need someone to keep an eye on things at the cave in case something comes up." His hand rested on hers.

"I will." Aurora nodded.

She kept quiet after that, and they were back at the manor in only a few more minutes.

Despite the poor condition of the roads, Alfred managed to drive very fast without getting close to skidding or spinning out. Bruce led her into the house and down to the cave, both of them ducking in the heavy falling snow on the way inside. It was still too early for him to go out, so they passed time watching news coverage and preparing for the night.


	15. A Nasty Habit

Hours passed.

Aurora fell asleep at one point and woke up wrapped in a big blanket with still-hot tea sitting on a small table near the giant screens. It was cold in the cave, so she took it gratefully and began sipping from the small cup.

"I'm sorry," she smiled over at him just a little, "if I fell asleep while you were talking or while we were watching the news." Her feet were pulled up close to her chest, arms around her legs and the side of her face resting on her knees. The chair was big with a rounded back that made sleeping more comfortable than she would have thought. She wondered how many hours he spent sleeping there rather than in his bed. "Did I miss anything?"

He turned his head toward her and smiled.

"Don't apologize. You fell asleep while Dent was being taken to the hospital," he explained. "He's refused any medical treatment, including pain killers, which is curious to me. Someone has been leaking information to the press regarding his condition."

"That's odd." Her eyes scanned the screen as he stood and walked over to her.

"I'm heading to ACE Chemicals again soon. Are you up to handling the computers?" he asked, kneeling down in front of her.

Aurora nodded. "I promise not to fall asleep."

She watched as he left her side and went to the mass of computers, explaining the names and workings of each one, as well as how to use them.

"Police Scanner, uplink to the National Criminal Database..."

She didn't listen half the time, instead focusing on him and how he moved and talked, watching his cape float around behind him.

It was weird to see Bruce as he was—half himself, half Batman. But the thought didn't last long before he was completely covered by his cowl, too.

"I think I've got it," she said and took a sip of her tea. Bruce walked over to her, kissed her deeply, then walked away without another word. It took her breath away and left her heart aching. Kissing Batman felt entirely different than kissing Bruce. Sure, they were both thrilling—amazing. But Batman was only so intense because there was always the chance of him not coming back. And while Aurora understood that, she knew Bruce didn't.

He saw himself as invincible.

But no one is.

He was gone right after that. Aurora was left sitting in the big, round chair with her blanket and tea. Suddenly, his voice chimed in on the speakers.

"Can you hear me?"

"I hear you," she answered, paused, and added in a worried tone, "Be careful, Bruce."

"You don't need to worry about me."

#

By the time Bruce arrived at ACE Chemicals, it was the dead of night.

"I'm going in," he said to Aurora.

Bruce forced entry the same way he did the previous time. Inside, it was a graveyard, crime scene tape everywhere. He looked to the catwalk the Red Hood fell from. A pang of regret hit him in the chest, but he quickly moved on.

He did some minor detective work, trying to make sense of everything, and kept coming up empty handed.

His thoughts were interrupted by slow, deep laughter. Bruce looked all around for a source, narrowing his eyes. The sound of the laughter seemed to get closer with each passing second, and suddenly all of the lights went on in the building, blinding and disorienting Bruce, the laughter evolving into a hearty cackle.

He looked up and saw a man, face hidden behind white light, sitting atop a throne of what seemed to be empty canisters of toxic waste.

"Boys, welcome our guest of honor! Bwahahaha!" The man kicked his legs in the air and continued in a fit of laughter as all of the henchmen around him applauded Batman. "They always do come back to the scene of their failure, don't they?" the man asked rhetorically.

Bruce narrowed his eyes.

"Red Hood," Bruce growled. "How?"

"Not Red Hood anymore, Bats! That gag got old quick. Now you can call me," the man leaned forward in his throne, revealing his crudely painted face, white with red lips, and green hair combed back neatly, "the Joker!"

"What are you doing here?" Bruce asked, his voice still in the same low growl.

"Well, waiting for you, of course! We're going to have quite a long evening! I have a friend who is going to owe me a big favor after I take off that head of yours," the Joker explained, pulling a switch blade from his pocket and flipping it up. He smiled darkly at Bruce. "But I won't kill you yet. You still have to worry about the bombs. Oh, yes, Batman. Soon my happy gas will shower Gotham in a fit of laughter! I guess you could say they're going to laugh themselves to death! BAHAHAHA! Go on, boys! Show our guest around!" the Joker commanded, jumping from his throne and running out the back door.

"Stop!" Bruce called out, attempting to chase after him.

He was cut off by a small group of thugs wearing clown masks. Bruce scowled as they began to circle him. "I need you to contact the GCPD. Get Gordon," Bruce ordered Aurora and crouched into a fighting stance. "I'm a bit preoccupied."

"I'm on it," he heard her say.

Bruce disposed of the five men around him with ease. Each of them were untrained, sloppy. He left them handcuffed, tied together, and hanging from a high strength wire he attached to the ceiling. All of them swung unconscious.

"He's on his way."

"Good. He'll find these men and get them booked. In the meantime, I need to find the Joker so I can find out where he hid these chemical bombs," Bruce explained, walking out the same door the Joker exited from.

He sharply turned a corner and found his vandalized vehicle alone in the alley. It was covered in green spray paint in a combination of smiley faces and the word "HA".

To think that someone could do that with such a short amount of time.

He approached the vehicle and found a note sitting on the windshield. Upon closer inspection, he found it to be a map of the city with several locations circled in red. The locations of the bombs. Why would he just leave it there?

 _He's a madman_ , Bruce reminded himself and shook his head slightly as he tucked it in his belt.

He clenched his fists and grappled up to the roof of ACE Chemicals for a view of the city.

"I'm sending you an image of the Joker's map. You should be able to navigate the Batwing to my location as well as input the locations of each bomb in the autopilot system. Everything should be laid out in front of you," he explained. His cowl took a picture of the map, which was quickly sent to the computer. He went back into ACE for a moment and attached the map of the city to the group of thugs tied together. A gift for Gordon.

By the time he made it out, the Batwing was hovering overhead. Bruce smirked as he used his grapple to board it. Aurora was highly capable.

"He's planted four bombs across the city. The Batwing should be fast enough to get me to them in time, but the Joker has them numbered on this map. It must be based on the times of detonation. The first one is on the roof of the Gotham City Royal Hotel." Bruce punched the accelerator on the Batwing and sped toward the hotel, ripping through the clouds, snow bombarding the craft as it cut through the air.

He ejected from the Batwing and glided to the roof of the hotel, one of the tallest buildings in Gotham's Diamond District. Sure enough, there was a bomb guarded by a few men dressed as clowns. Bruce charged them, slide tackling one and quickly recovering to his feet. Two men attacked him with knives simultaneously. Bruce swiftly dodged and gripped both of their wrists, crushing them in his hands, causing the men to drop their weapons. He kicked one man in the stomach and kneed the other in the head. He looked around, the three guards utterly defeated, caught off guard by the presence of Batman.

Bruce quickly approached the bomb and punched into the circuits, pulling a handful of wires from it. The bomb whirred as it shut down, the lights of the countdown timer fading.

"One down, three to go. Has Gordon arrived yet?" Bruce asked as he waited for the Batwing to return for pickup. A needle protruded from his right gauntlet and slipped into the bomb, pulling a sample of the gas.

"I think they're just getting there. There aren't a lot of men yet. I see...Gordon. And three other guys. But there're some more cars showing up." She paused long enough for Bruce to board the Batwing. "What's in those bombs?" she asked.

"It could be something, it could be nothing. But we act like it's the worst case scenario. I'm on my way to the second bomb at Gotham General. Send Gordon to the GCPD station. That's where the next bomb is. Make sure they have gas masks. Then contact Lucius Fox to get an antidote. I'm sending you a sample now. I'll get back to you as soon as I'm done at the hospital."

"Got it."

He was there in no time, plunging his fist into the bomb and disarming it. Two more, he thought.

"What's Gordon's status? Did he get there?"

"Yeah, they're working on it ri-" Her voice cut off, and when she spoke again, he could hear her sorrow. "Bruce, it… They didn't stop it. They're okay. But the people around them..."

Bruce stopped in his tracks and looked across the city from the roof of the hospital and saw the dense green cloud descending upon the city. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. He could hear the sound of the clown cackling in the back of his mind.

He was silent as the Batwing made its pass to pick him up, and he zoomed through the sky to the final location. The roof of Wayne Enterprises.

By the time he arrived and ejected to the roof, there was no bomb in sight, just the form of a man with his toes hanging over the ledge.

"Joker!" Bruce shouted to him. The Joker turned to face him, a wicked smile on his crimson lips.

"Oh, hello, Bats! Fancy seeing you here! Heeheehahahaha!" The Joker stepped away from the ledge and pulled a knife from his pocket, flipping it open. "Just you and me, Bats. No fourth bomb. No nothing!" The Joker doubled over in laughter.

Bruce gritted his teeth and growled, "Do you know how many people you have killed tonight?" He leaned forward slightly, preparing to charge.

"Gee, I dunno! Somewhere between one hundred and five hundred? BAHAHAHA!" Bruce barreled toward the clown and tackled him to the ground, causing his knife to go skidding across the snow covered roof. Bruce punched him. Again and again. Each time, he slowed his pace and increased his strength, causing more and more damage.

Despite each ferocious punch, the Joker laughed.

"C'mon, Bats! Is that all ya got?"

Bruce stopped and lifted the Joker by his collar, dangling him over the edge of the roof. A deadly fall. "That's more like it! Do it! Kill me. It's no less than I deserve!"

The Joker smiled darkly. Bruce growled but continued to hold onto him. "Very well! I'll give you a hand!" A knife shot forward from the toe of the Joker's shoe and he kicked Batman in the stomach. His armor absorbed the blow but he let go of the Joker. He could hear the laughter as the wicked man fell.

Bruce cursed himself and dove from the roof, heading for the Joker. He managed to catch up and grab onto him.

"What the hell are you doing?" the Joker shouted, pulling a revolver from his back pocket and pressing it against Bruce's temple. Bruce swatted the gun away and head butted him.

As they grew closer and closer to the ground, Bruce's cape flared out, allowing them to land on the street safely. In an instant, they were surrounded by a horde of cops, all pointing their guns toward him.

"Freeze, Batman!" the voice of Gordon shouted through blaring sirens and lights.

To his luck, Aurora already had the Batwing hovering overhead. In one swift movement, Bruce grappled into the Batwing, avoiding the hail of bullets headed in his direction and leaving the Joker at the will of the GCPD.

He quickly pushed the throttle forward and flew off in the direction of the cave, the blood of a madman on his hands.

The blood of the people he couldn't save on his hands.

By the time Bruce returned, it was very late. He didn't expect Aurora to be awake, yet as the Batwing landed on the platform, there she was, waiting for him.

He left the cockpit of the Batwing and stepped onto the ground, pulling the cowl from his head and tossing it aside in rage. Aurora's quiet gasp bounced around the silent cave, and he heard her feet brush against the cold floor. He put his face in his hands and dropped to his knees, defeated.

"Bruce?" she said softly, kneeling next to him but not touching him. He heard her as an echo in the back of his mind, but he was too lost in meditation to calm himself down to reply.

He rose from his kneeling position after a while. The meditation had calmed him some, but he could still feel rage burning within him. He looked down to Aurora and offered his hand to her, pulling her up to a standing position. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the cold, sharp air of the cave, and slowly exhaled.

"Did you manage to contact Lucius?" Bruce asked, his voice weak and defeated. He slowly made his way to the armor stand where he began to peel off individual pieces of armor, hanging them in their appropriate places. His shirt stuck to his body with sweat and his hair was matted with it. He looked over to Aurora.

"What kind of hero am I to let people die?"

It was more rhetorical than anything, but Bruce still hoped for an answer. He clenched his fists.

"He wanted to confront me alone. To be caught. He wanted to see what I'd do after he killed all of those people. He wanted me to kill him."

The more Bruce made sense of this maniac, the less he understood.

"He wanted you to kill him, but you didn't, Bruce" she said in a soft almost-whisper. "You're at war. People die in war. Not everyone can be saved. And not everyone wants to be. Things happen for a reason."

Bruce simply looked at her. He didn't want to admit that she had a point, that there was some sense in her words. But at the same time, how could she think that for things to get better, people would have to die?

"My parents didn't die for a reason, Aurora. They died because Joe Chill wanted to pawn my mother's pearls for his next bottle of booze." His words were sharp and they tasted awful coming out of his mouth, but he stood strong behind them. Her face dropped and her eyes went to the floor. There was no reason he should be giving her such a hard time about what happened.

"I'm sorry, Aurora," he said, pulling her in and embracing her. He held her tightly, arms wrapped all the way around her. "I have one rule. I won't inflict on these criminals what they have inflicted upon me. I will not become one of them. I will stand above." His voice was powerful, unwavering.

He made the promise long ago atop a mountain's peak in the Himalayas. He was with his mentor, Ra's Al Ghul, and the two of them were discussing the penalty of death, and whether or not it was justified. He remembered the fight that broke out between the two men because Bruce refused to kill Ra's and take his place as the head of his organization, the League of Assassins. Bruce was victorious and left Ra's there, deciding the man had taught him all he could.

Bruce knew Aurora had a long night. She had to watch those people die. She had to watch it all. But you would never guess it—she was strong. She was the reason the Joker didn't really succeed.

"You were amazing tonight." He looked directly into her eyes, whispered, "Thank you," and pulled her in again.


End file.
